I. The Blow

Devastation strikes
body devouring itself
plans lie in ruin

The surreal discovery
This mockery of life—
how dare days still move.

Nothing to blame—
a single cell goes rogue,
and I am undone.

Time ripped from my hands;
the stealthy thief mocks me—
I churn, I burn.

II. The Rage

The clock ticks down—
Tomorrow is stolen now
my heart rages on.

The clock ticks down—
Peace refuses to settle—
Blazing, unrelenting.

Even rage cannot
stretch the bleeding edge of time—
it drips into grief.

The clock ticks down—
Fury blooms where grief has grown
Time refuses mercy.

The clock ticks down—
Every stolen moment screams
pain a knife snashed glass.

The clock ticks down—
Fury burrows deep inside
weep for stolen tomorrows.

The clock ticks down—
mourning a life carved too short—
fire scorches my chest

The clock ticks down—
Tears scald, fists clench, air trembles—
Time's theft is cruel.

Hours splinter, shatter
rage bleeds into the marrow
time spits in my face.

The clock ticks down—
Anger invades every room
grief stains every day

The clock ticks down—
Stolen moments scream out
Outrage splinters the mind.

The clock ticks down—
The mind grasps the failing flesh
begging for delay.

III. The Abyss

Shadows lengthen low.
Desperate for the light
Grasping for grip

The ponderous clock—
even silence has a roar,
God does not answer.

The ponderous clock—
God is absent, a vacuum
abandoned, bereft

The ponderous clock—
God fails to comfort
no mercy comes

The ponderous clock—
Peace flees before my roar
I flail, repenting.

The ponderous clock—
Rage, grief, and lost tomorrows
smolder in my bones

The ponderous clock—
the waste, the loss
life’s shattered shards.

The ponderous clock—
Even in silence, it roars
a cruel, endless drum.

The ponderous clock—
I cannot accept this theft—
agony breaks me.

The ponderous clock—
This cruel farce mocks
the meaning of life.

IV. The Reach

Yet I grasp the light,
trying not to succumb to
mindless, creeping fear.

Despite shadowed hours,
I reach for life’s small wonders—
laughter still sparks fire.

Every breath proves life
is brief; still I seize each day,
exhaling fragile joy.

Grasping the light—
Every day still holds wonder—
I seize, exhaling joy.

Though I crack at times,
I will not bow to despair—
I rise, grasping light.

Grasping the light—
Yet in the shadowed hours
I seize life’s small joys.

Grasping the light—
Yet in darkest hours,
I grasp life’s fleeting, vivid sparks.

Grasping the light—
To seek to reach to find
to clutch at offered joy.

V. The Leaving

The clock quickens—
all that I am, all I loved
will drift into the void.

The clock quickens—
Names I’ll never call again
lost away from me.

The clock quickens—
Laughter I will never hear
never hear it bloom

The clock quickens—
I grieve not just what will be lost
but what I will not see

The clock quickens—
Tears pool in the quiet room
grieving what will fade.

I grieve not my breath
life that I will never see.
Those I leave behind,

The clock quickens—
love remains in every name
I whisper goodbye.

Reluctantly.

The clock quickens—
but love outlives the ticking
in the ones I leave.

Originally written: 9/16-9/24, 2025