THE WATCHMAKER WRITES A WILL by the sill a pitter and patter spattered like a choral clatter when Time in tatters tread on in and made my silence all ashatter NOTHING said he is to be left undone so with limbs atremble and mouth resigned my pen begins to run TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK it runs first to the son to which my work is done but my scorched scrawl is hectic my mind succumbs then the wailing overruns the quiet is quelled and my wrath is wrought the staying of my anger fraught then from my desktop fortress I arise TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK prepared to launch the first attack I glimpse my words return to black watch limbs lurch back and sinews crack a dirvish whirl paradisiac there is no logic I decide in falling into regicide since after all now I see this kingdom's king was never me their skin is cold and so desire a godly touch to give them fire a loving stroke to kindle my kin and ignite from within the motion of their lunatic spin they spin they spin with such divine wind in ode to me like a mortal sin TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK so much time I have spent a lifelong crime to repent for now I forget who is god who is servant? I must regain reign over body and brain and open my eyes relieve the strain I beg the compass to be my guide its two hands and twelve directions remind me of its insurrections a patterned promise which needs no corrections calm and steady I will finish what I began to do which words wish I will to you? TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK ticking a tock and stopping a clock are one in the same start by removing the gears from the back of your head