Tick…
Tick…
Tick…
The ceiling fan rocking
blades blur and vanish intermittently
This nightly dance goes on
backlit by a constant 2 am glow
Time has abandoned me
A false heart begins to beat 300 times…
images of the Reaper eagerly standing by
while I float on a river sourced by cold sweat
This time he will take me
and I will surely die
My body believing my mind's nightly lie
This goes on forever
the clock hits 2:01.
The battle has made me weary
forcing me to drift off into sleep
to the soft sounds of the ceiling fan
and the Reaper's shuffling feet
About the Creator
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More stories from Huzaifa Malik and writers in Poets and other communities.
Getting Serious About Comedy (Part I)
If I were asked to remark on my life and the childhood that paved some road leading me to this point, I would have to say something about all the funny people who surrounded me for the last 26,872 days (and counting). Somewhere along that road, I became a big fan of laughter and the comedy that spawns it – and, I mean not only my own laughter, but the laughter of others, some of which I have actually been responsible for inducing.
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