Clockmaking

***Clockmaking**** (this is also unedited and way too long so its very clumpy and so lots of irksome/exertion again i suppose)


at the movies, i check my watch, check the time,
at the workplace, at the grocery store, in the car,
in a theatre, with a boring show, i check my watch,
to check the time, i see its 12:00. but I see nothing inside the watch.

Whats so beautiful?
to ever desire, to understand whos beautiful?
and we all see the beautiful different.
In my mind, its as thus:inside a person what counts.
modesty is beauty. in my mind, clocking is beautifying.

Inside someone their ticking,
thats where their moving.
streaming a tick tock, a movement of shock,
its beautifuing. its energetic, and flowing,

I truly believe, my strangeness keeps me in check,
I check my watch, but I want to so badly
see the interior of their timers,
drinking hot cider,
waiting for that one to appear,
vanish in the mirror,
and i see she is unclear,
looking for that special friend,
someone to hold onto,
someone to cry into,
someone to sympathize, someone to love,
and yet, style inside this persons eyes,
its amazing, its mezmerizing, its like a vented sweet spot decaying,
yet venting in clockmaking,

"Whats so beautiful"
"Whos that beautiful"
"I find clockmaking, like the inside of a person, beautiful"
In the right person its worth looking. worth browsing, worth consuming, with care,
a delightful risk at hand to love the beautiful, yet cruel and cold, gives one a scare,
take something to heart and it bleeds hot metal on you, liquidated and scarring you,
it hurts, but finding the right person of clockmaking can be soothing to one.

Its worth it. "I find clockmaking beautifying, its consuming, its intruding on me"
treading on queer desire, spearing ones entire, i vanquish insanity,
glide away to a ice castle and find a magician obscuring ..clockmaking....
now i see not all who are "beautiful" are even worth a glimpse into them.