"Tick Tock"

Tick, his face filled with marks, I stare at his wide-open mouth wondering when that saliva would finally fall. As I continued staring, a disgusted expression suddenly drew itself on my face upon the sight of him inhaling his drooling saliva back into his throat.

Tock, he has no idea how much I don't want to be here. Every day I sit, slammed by his fist. Does he not realize how absurd it is having to lay down on a bed every single day? I know I have. At least he gets to roam around, eat, drink, and shower. I wonder how long till he eventually realizes the point of it all. But when he does, will I be happy to see him sleep forever? Or perhaps, will I miss his fist?

Tick, as I was shifting my concentration, he suddenly turned to his right side, causing his pillow to fall on the ground, and his bed sheet to become completely undone. I wasn’t surprised, I’ve been on this job for quite some time now. I remember my first gig back in China, in fact, you can still see my “Made In China” tag, implanted onto my lower back.

Tock, oh no... I thought. I can feel it, I can feel the buzz inside me getting ready to go off. Oh no... I continue thinking, I've experienced this feeling over and over, but yet, I can never get used to it. As my second-hand transitions to the last few seconds till 8 o'clock, as if it was on cue, I started counting down and from 3, my heart starts racing. I feel the drip of sweat slowly descending down from my countenance. But right before it shot down onto the nightstand, I hastily opened my mouth, and out came my tongue, licking the sweat before a mess could be made.

Tick, 2, I continue counting. From hours to minutes and from minutes to seconds, time went by quick. I gazed fixedly toward him while my face reflected the terror of what was bound to happen. "I don't want to, I don't like the feeling, I don't want to experience it again." Oh no... I thought as I felt myself beginning to buzz, my face turned red in reaction to my terrorized body. Suddenly, my hour-hand completely covered the 8 and immediately I knew I was out of time, or rather, 1... IT WAS TIME!

Tock... (silence).

I felt high as if I was intoxicated; my eyes widen as I hear him groan. To make matters worse, he suddenly extends his arm and I just knew it was over. Alas, without holding back he smashes onto me, causing my loud buzzing to cut out. I just realized, no, I wouldn't miss his fist. I know if he does sleep forever, I would buzz forever but, why would anybody want to experience this intoxication over and over again.

Despair, the life I live; quailing in agony, my body flustered. With an ogling eye, I remain fixated toward him. “He’s awake!” you’d think that’s another good job for me but no, how can I accept when I’m right here paralyzed in defeat? It’s not over, it’s never over. I can't say for sure but I'm in hell. My life is but a struggle; a damned eternal repetition. Not even a reincarnation.

Simply absurd.

What did I do to end up in such torture?

However, it didn't matter how many days I engaged in my own self-inquiry. My hour hand, my minute hand, and my second hand, all steadily reset back on schedule, but I take heed, and again I’m set to wake him up the next day at 8 o’clock. Tick tock, tick tock.