Tick. Tock.

Blinding rays of light reflecting off the walls and into your eyes

The drumming of your inhibition echoes in your ears

A curdling screech of silence fills the room

Thick fog swirls in the presence of your mind

Clouding any notions and hindering any progress

Tick.

The weight that slams into you

Crawls uncontrollably inside

Embedding the toxic habit

The escalated pitch of the white noise is deafening

Leaving you with only blank thoughts  

Tock.

The words are beyond reach

Stumbling upon useless meanings

The pace quickens

Drumming faster and faster

Tick.

You try to reach for it, the beginning

Grasping onto nothing but the thin air

Clouds of motivation that have escaped

Tock.

The miraculous ideas envisioned are lost

Edging you deeper and deeper

Tick.

To the stroke of midnight