Hour 22

This is what I imagine

Being a zombie feels like

Or a ghost reliving the same nightmare

Night after night after night

There is something supernatural

Something sinister about hour 22

You know the end is near

But it is out of your grasp

Your feet are being held down

Your brain screams for release

But no one can hear you

You reach out but there is nothing

to hold onto

You can do nothing but wait

Write and wait

Wait and write

The clock ticks

Ever so slowly

A time warp

A poet’s loop

A poem, on top of another poem, on top of another poem

Wait and write, write and wait

Try not to let the clock

ticking and tocking

control you.

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