Staring at the Clock

Psychosis, Psychosis
staring at the clock
the clock strikes three
and then it goes to stop

I pull the rigid knife
out of the bleak body
as the blood protrudes out
like the branches of a tree

the sweat beads drop
off the bottom of my chin
as I unnecessarily worry
how much trouble I'll be in

the antennae come out
from the slit in his thigh
from the first wound inflicted
and unfolds yellow wings to say "hi"

he states his name is 'France'
unlikely as that can be
though I break his binding chains
so that from this corpse he can be free

the shattering metal
attached to the trunk of the tree
slips away from beautiful 'France'
as he flutters away shouting "Savior is he!"

the blood clumps and crawls away
draining his body, every which way

out of blood
I look at the clock
crazy must I fucking be
as it shouts "2:59" with a tock.