chrononaut

i exist
in the nanosecond
of coiled tension
just before
the second hand
ticks

i am a tick
feeding on
the potential energy
inherent
in every tock
the instance hovering
right as time itself
turns kinetic

spilling ink
to coat the gears
grinding the clock face
to a stuttered stop

a chrononaut
of insignificance
trying to decipher
the nuances in
the ebb and flow of
the nothingness
humanity masks
in the most futile
conception of time

forever lingers
on the minute hands
of a thousand broken clocks
unkempt order
shackled to regulated chaos

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