Got a funny feeling, maybe you know too.
Not laughing though. No more funny.
The clock. Time fractioning up on me,
hours long gone, half hours fracturing down
to minutes, to blister split seconds
around the next corner. Turning blind,
into a short dark street, blackness of darkness,
Black Hole of Calcutta, unboltable Black Hole,
no sun rising up ahead. Hit the brakes. Hard.
Slow the pace down, man, slow it snail crawl down,
slow it way, way, lazy slug oozing barely along down.
I’ve never been afraid of the night until now,
way the hell over at this end of town.
Never thought I’d get to this side somehow.