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Saturday, September 13, 2025

Tick Of My Clockwork Heart

Tick Of My Clockwork Heart
© Surazeus
2025 09 13

If you hear sharp tick of my clockwork heart 
echo in ancient forest of stone trees, 
wrap your sinuous arms around my chest 
and embrace wordless anguish of desire 
that sparks pleasure when our bodies entwine 
with nonchalant excess of perfumed faith. 

Languorous in sensuous sea of flesh, 
we writhe with agony in dazzling dream 
of sailboats voyaging across wild waves 
with bodies open to the glorious sky 
that shimmers with eternal heat of hope 
as we emerge from shadows of lost time. 

Shadows of the unveiled invisible 
reveal electric spirit of my brain 
sparked by imperishable swirls of truth 
that reflect hallucinations of hope 
which lure me far across the rain-wet field 
through horror of derision and despair. 

Disheveled tresses of the pretty ghost, 
who holds ticking clock of my vibrant heart 
with languorous fascination of the mad, 
veil atrocious cavern of my vast mind 
where I chase rainbow of progressive fear 
to cracked fountain where I drink blood of faith. 

Bold mother of memories utters prayers 
illumed by glow of coals in fractured heart 
with divine attention of lightning strikes 
that open pure door of momentous fright 
when I give infinite kisses of trust 
which rejuvenates the sun in my brain. 

Hunched on enormous boulder of respect, 
I gaze from mountain slope in frantic wind 
at wordless shimmer of the boundless sea 
where beautiful hawks glide above the world 
with proper privilege of sudden faith, 
invisible yet everywhere alive. 

Yet when I pause in shadowed atrium 
and listen to soft burble of the stream, 
weird howl of silver clouds above the sea 
refracts strange memory of the muddy path 
where she appears in flash of sudden light 
with eyes that understand the why of death. 

Though you hear soft tick of my clockwork heart 
that vibes in harmony with ocean waves, 
teach me to focus on the here and now 
with clear perceptive eyes of fragile faith 
accepting how flowers bloom from my brain 
when I try to regenerate the dead. 



1 comment:

  1. Orpheus tries to explain his adventure to his daughter when he returns to the cave of shadows by the sea where she shapes clay into pottery with administrative hands.

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