Time trickles painfully slow
Too slow to register on the scale
Of motion so that my throaty scream
Gets lost somewhere between
Reality and a dream
Inanimate object my bedside companion
And its apathy drives a stake blazing
Scrutiny through my ever growing weary
Heart that painfully pumps blood
Through my half numbed frame
Eyes peer from behind tarnished frames
Gawking at every indecisive action that
Slowly breaks free from the constraints of
A body confined by cowardice gauged on a clock
That has come to a screeching halt
L, Loneliness and judgment felt even in your adorable little cottage, my friend?? We need to see a Cape Cinema movie together or something! This poem, like your others, shows you are no hypocrite: Indecisive action is better than cowardice - this is the message of the final stanza, yes?
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