In a world where time ticks on with the relentless precision of a finely tuned clock, the universal struggle of finding inner peace becomes ever more poignant. This poem unwraps the intricacies of daily life, painting a vivid picture of an individual grappling with overwhelming thoughts and scheduled chaos. Can you remember the last time your mind felt like a stormy sea, where each wave of worry crashed upon the shores of your sanity? Through its unique structure, the piece invites you to contemplate the rituals we adopt to escape the mundane routine of existence—like hiding away with sweet treats and soothing sounds, searching for solace amid the noise. Join me in exploring this evocative journey, revealing not just the struggle for tranquility, but the bizarre beauty found within life’s little idiosyncrasies. It’s a delightful read for anyone who’s ever needed a break from the world’s demands. [LEARN MORE](http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/)
Worked as efficient and dependable
as freshly oiled clock wheels
and happened every afternoon
as regular as the work
these wheels tick-tocked for.
Coming devastatingly on time
and following a similar structure
and pattern as cardiac arrests.
A small one around 3pm
followed by a bigger
more sadistic (Teeth pulling!) one,
on or around 5:15pm.
At which point he downed tools
immediately, shut up shop
and retreated quickly
to the underground bunker.
Fixing in place noise cancelling
earphones upon his poor
short circuiting head
and a blackout mask
over tired, strained eyes.
Then he would sit in a rocking chair,
imagining the gentle sounds
of a midnight, deserted seashore.
Whilst sucking but never chewing
exactly one and a half bags of wine gums,
each individual colour at a time.
And smoking Rose Petal & Brandy
rolling tobacco until the storm
within his cranium teacup
had eased its way right on out of view.
More at http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.
