“Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake.”
- The Tempest -
“Awake, dear heart, awake…” he whispers and his eyes brim with tears.
Tears that are… They’re… They sting…
"Thou hast slept well. Awake."
He stops, turns, and then looks to his left. Stays to the left.
Thou hast slept too damn well, awake.
He is too certain, too well-aware of the presence that has his heart… Has his heart…
Tick, tock, tick tock.
"Awake, dear heart, awake."
His eyes are now pouring tears.
"Is that blood?" he gasps.
"Where?"
To his hands, his thick orbs flick, and his ribs go…
Tick, tick…
"Why isn’t it tick tock, where’s the tock tock?" his head screams
and he's suddenly on the floor, kick, kick…
“Help me!” he screams, yelps, but nobody. No. Nobody helps.
Tick, tick, but why?! Why isn’t is tock-ing when it ticks?
I need it to damn tick. Or tock. Tick.
"Blood?!"
He yelps again now, moans, the cut in his wrist so deep
that it has reached his bones.
Awake, dear heart, awake, but how much more does he exactly have to take?
Their eyes. Their laughs, their smiles. They… They have his heart go…
T…
No…
No, no, no…
Tick tock, his heart is awake.
No more, is what he has to take.
Sleep, dear heart, sleep. Thou hast taken too much. Sleep.
Insomnia, insomnia, insomnia.
I need you to damn sleep.
Who am I anyway or who are they?
Sleep. He says, OCD. Sleep, cut that milk skin, let them see.
He's giggling. It’s dry. It’s too dry and his heart… It…
Tick… Tick… Tick… Tick tick, damn tick…
Tick tick, I need it to tock….
"Please, please!"
Tick, the knife is through his skin… He sighs.
Tock, hot scarlet pours… He smiles.
Tick, it’s over now. He thrives.
Tock, he hears his dead damn mother’s voice as they mock.
Mock him and his ways,
mock him until the end of his days.
Tick tock is all he's ever wanted to hear.
But it’s obsessive,
like demons.
Compulsive… Tick tick tick…
Sleep, dear heart, sleep, I prithee.
Disorder, disorder disorder! No order! No order!
Where is he going to go, now? Where?
Why is there blood on the floor? He's lost. He stares.
Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick tick… Please!
He's lost his sight, his bones, eyes, stones, skies…
Freeze.
"Tick, tock, OCD. It’s easy," he cries, "can’t you see?"
Tick tock, tick tick…
He dies.
----------------------------------------------------------------
What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?
Go make thyself invisible to every eyeball else.
Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake!
The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.
Shake it off. Come on;
End.
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140,808 Literary Works • 673,689 Reviews
Hello!
Emilykay10144 here...
This poem is really deep and I love how there is some mystery behind it. If this poem was a movie, I would seriously be on the edge of my seat.
There were some confusing parts, but I think that is the whole point. This poem is the genre of Mystery, and with mystery comes confusion.
I love how you used old English talk and then back to regular English talk. (lol that makes sense right)
This poem is really great and pm me next time you post.
Keep up the great work!
-Emilykay10144
Man you don't get it lol It's so damn confusing with the ticking and tocking that I have to keep reading to understand. And I feel like this is like some nursery rhyme I cant read, cause I'm tongue twisted from readying tick tock so many times lol
I like how you turned your writing from back and forth from English to slang and back. it made your work more interesting.
Does tick tock like resembles time running out; I feel stupid for asking that. But like he only has some time to finish what he started till the end?
Your work is quite deep and I know people with more intelligence than me will understand this better. But your wording is just so good.