And Then all that is left is the silence.
If I had an inner clock maybe it would fill the emptiness with an eternal tick tock tick tock. Or maybe not. Because I smashed that thing after the last time it called sweetly ‘life is spinning away, catch it while you can today!’ Cruel thing... I caught mold spores masquerading as fairy dust rays.
And that even after I’d thrown it into the darkest corner of my mind I could find. From that time before when it chanted ‘babies now or never, this one - take for better...’ Liar. My soul had nine lives and ‘worse’ crushed them one at a time.
I used to ignore it muffled under layers of spirit labelled seriously ‘youth’ but in gold tinged curlique. Except times when it rung out over a project due and some other numbing thing or two.
Hard trades. I don’t miss the thing.
Still, 13th stroke, I do miss you.