The clock was ticking along my heart
Shredding my nights slowly apart
And the hand reaching for the hour
Holds cutlery to a bloody shower
What if the day never comes?
With gravity my self succumbs
As weary eyes set into the corner
Nothing to see the dawn after
Illicit dreams are my sole savior
But died in my arms of misbehavior
So I knit the holes on my sheet
Of better days and early sleet
The mask I wore is always cracked
Shedding colors to they eyes of tact
But with feet as cold as the snowy road
Solitude is my last humble abode
an undead to the hourglass,
Andri Kurniawan
