Scribble

monotony
-Ulansigaw

The clock is ticking

ticking

as the voices and chalkdust dissolve
into nothingness.
The sun drying up the air
as the clock ticks
second after second
each passing like a game of golf
that I watched, eyes half-closed
in the gray of summer,
or like a moment in a jeepney
filled to the brim
while the driver waits for another to come in.

Still the clock ticks

ticking

ticking

So I scribble
scratching my pen on the paper,
connecting dots and dashes
each curve making a screeching sound;
a sound of solace.

But the clock still ticks
pulling my sight into void.
The clock ticks and ticks
lullabying

me

to

sleep.

---A scribble in my creative writing class. Still a rough draft though.