The Clockwork of My Mind

…hammered metal and coiled springs, intricate teeth of sharp picks, and a crowbar held between my lips, 

the violent snap of roots and milk that trickles with a bloody thick from my chin, 

starburst vision summons the methodical pressure, the gears bite, a migraine embrace of my brain, pulling a suffocating deathroll through sinus caverns, 

the cuckoo ulcers the uvula with a rusted song of infection, 

the bone saw grinds, a hand fractions my skull…

…a celluloid thought reel combusts, 

words in humanoid form scratching, pounding the interior calcified walls, 

screams thunder in pitch of steel…echo a porous loss   

…and suddenly winter silence… 

…gentle breath upon ash, a ceremonial scatter, embedding dust in the crevices that ledge, 

nail etched ruminations in hollow sockets, the circle of infinite vision 

and from the wreckage, a hand in perpetual tick…

…a five pronged shadow in hover…in thought…in design…

{-the clockwork of my mind-}

E.A. O'Connell