The Only Clock Left on the Mantlepiece

Georges Cunningham

Truth is

nothing is

All warped perceptions.

Tonal in nature

Total in destruction

the soul engulfed.

Break away

The dream commits

Suicide is

the logic persuaded

We are here

for nothing.

Every state,

Every plane,

Every period created

A world of lies ingested.

Focus is

on demise

keep us all around.

There is nothing

that will keep me here

beyond my thoughts

my hopes

my regrets

my vision of the future.

All wasted

all in total depletion.

Cover me instead

and close my eyes.

There is nothing

that calls me away

to find a better home.

No force

no hope

no future attainable

that describes where I want to be.

Keep me packaged

locked away

hurting only myself

and the darkness.

There is nothing

I can see

that is as bright

as the black sky

encompassing

the windows

the doors

the walls

they speak,

»For whomever

sits upon

the doorstep of the past

will be cast

into the concrete

mind of the master.

Out of reach

out of focus

out of touch

out of enjoyment.»

Visions come

and visions go

You can only see

what you saw.

But everything you

want

is not what you’ve

seen.

Unreachable is

the game we play.

Even dreams provide

no relief.

Everything is truth

in dreams.

Messages from what you see

in the mind’s eye.

Catch and release

the final coffin.

I belong there.

Decaying away

locked in dream.