battery

Hell of a time - the clock's acidic, corrosive.

Care-away-way seeds that burn in second hand of my right arm. They stick in your teeth. You have to eat them, or they slip through right through the fingers and onto the face.

Strike me, strike twelve. Try. Or don't. Watch you don't cut yourself, my glass counts hours. No one like losing time, that makes it bad, if you have it. There's never enough. Buy more, or bide yours.

I am a battery. I am a crime. I live in pursed plastic, pounded full of power - a mockery of life. I am filled to make things that shouldn't move and stop those that should. I am to lightening, what aspartame is to sugar.

Even when I die, there's more of me than you.