"Tick tock" says the fucker on the wall and looks down at me disgracefully.
"Tick tock" it insists. It doesn't feel like stopping.
I try to open my eyes, but they instinctively close, to avoid being harmed by bright sunshine.
I wish I had some of these self-preserving instincts too; how could I have possibly thought going out another night would do me any good?
I clumsily pick myself up from the bed to seek shelter under a stream of hot water.
...
Time has not been kind to me.
And I fear I learned not to care.
I don't wanna lose my swing.
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