Monologue?

tock continues to tick and takes this train

hostage; loops, speeds, nearly tips

the conductor hangs with one hand 

Gripping the footplate for dear life, 

the other clutching the hijacker’s arm

in hopes of drawing enough blood that they’d have 

no other choice but to stop.

 

but to no avail 

 

the train derails and falls to a cavernous abyss.

 

the one once in charge of the train 

Laid in pieces at the bottom by a cypress tree.

ticks teemed on the wrist draining blood with each 

snail of a second

 

veins caved in, eyes sunk by anchors of 

Time

 

Then, a twit twit twitter bangs the drum 

 

a woodpecker in the peripheral and, not too long 

after, a hummingbird clear against the silhouette of the moon

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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