Why I Hate Ticking

Tick, tick, tick… Goes the clock, barely enough time between its frantic ticks for me to breathe in, and live in the second I’m quite preoccupied with living in. Tick, tick, tick… Like it has some second plan. Constantly ticking. Biding its precious time away until it can force its plan into action. Forcing us to live by its hypnotic tick, tick, tick… Burning at time, sending it into misty explosions up into the air. Burning time, but only creating more as it continues ticking on, swiveling in an endless circle, its incessant chorus, tick, tick, tick. Its plan slowly emerges to action, as all the ticks in the world combine, ticking their way towards detonation. Ticking away the seconds left in the world. Some sixth sense of knowing death. Of knowing when and where it all ends. Counting down the seconds… Tick, tick, tick. A bomb, just waiting to explode as it ticks itself to detonation. Never ending, interminable, whizzing spinning circles counting down the time until the end of time itself, tick, tick, tick! Around and around it goes, looking at me, peering into my soul. Laughing at my helplessness with it’s gleeful tick, tick, tick! It can see me. It knows me. It feels me. It ticks, it ticks, and ticks. Moving faster, faster still, as it decides on how many more ticks I deserve before my demise. Tick? Tick, tick? Tick, tick, tick? It decides. Time decides. Ticking decides. My life spins around on the cruel scarlet second hand as it slowly digs deeper into my soul, my innards pulsing with it’s tick, tick, tick, until I bleed and color the second hand with my fresh blood, and still, tick, tick, tick. It’s causing my death, the end of me, the end of my world, and taking the energy for its own, so it can continue. Continue along its path, and steal away the others, too. Steal them with its ticking. It will never be satisfied. Continuous. Tick! Tick! Tick! It sucks the power from us all, and we’re left in it’s rotating circles, around and around the clock, until there’s no life left for it to steal. No more thoughts, no more blood, no more time. The clock stops ticking.

Whoa... That's so good, and deep, and whoa. Me gusta.

... As you can tell, I was getting totally freaked out by a ticking clock in my house... xD Thanks, though.

xD Well, it turned out well.

xD Glad to hear it.

I just read it again, and again I am wowed.

Thanks.

You're welcome.

That's pretty cool! It evokes vivid images of clock-hands speeding around faster and faster until the glass explodes and drowns in gallons of blood and then everything goes dark. Clocks causing anxiety attacks!

I like the way you describe that.