<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=496141" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Time Ticks Like Death Crawling In My Skin</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">at 6: 15 <br>twilight, </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> darkness chokes the neck of day<br>i hear nothing <br>i tell the fence, steel and rusty, feeling death itself<br>on its rails, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">that death makes no sound, it is only the time ticking<br>like the dripping of the water from the gutter<br>to the rocks<br>at the foot of the house</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>it is only its hands that move <br>round and round my body<br>feeling the irrationality of my wrist, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">the mind closes like a window at night<br>the thoughts are turned off like the lights of the village</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the self loses itself in this darkness<br>you hear nothing of its insanities</div><div style="margin:10px 0">no one talks no one listens<br>at 8 o'clock in the evening all the eyes pretend that sleep is just nearby</div><div style="margin:10px 0">in bed my hands argue<br>there is something wrong</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the feet stamp against themselves at the foot of the bed<br>there are no changes without a bloodshed</div><div style="margin:10px 0">that is still the philosophy of life<br>this world is not a playground for saints</div><div style="margin:10px 0">this world spins upon its own foolishness<br>at the center is the hub of all selfishness</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=496141" data-title="Time Ticks Like Death Crawling In My Skin de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="at 6: 15 twilight, darkness chokes the neck of day i hear nothing i tell the fence, steel and rusty, feeling death itself on its rails, that death makes no sound, it is only the time ticking like the dripping of the water from the gutter to..."></div> </div> </div>

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