The ticking of the clock
As it slowly makes its way
Across the spaces in my mind,
Filling me with nothing more
Than its constant din
Is like a slow cruel death;
I catch myself gazing at its
Somber visage time and time again.
The flow of my life's blood
Surges and then ebbs as
I try in vain to remain calm,
Making me feel like I'm walking
On a narrow steel girder,
Miles above the ground;
And still the hands creep
Slowly past each number,
Making me doubt my very sanity.
Images of our time alone together
Tempt me in vivid technicolor;
In my mind, I try hard not to rush,
Forcing myself to be patient,
Wanting it to last as I feel
Her love infuse me.
And I know, as the cadence
Accelerates mercilessly onward
That I will wish for this painful
Lingering torture as I lie in her arms
At last.

May 29, 1999