The silk sounds of the ticking clock, ever so faded
Will gently knock their pattern in my skull
Sunken eyes assume it as a call for help

--Desipher the morse code


nothing


Scoff at my paranoia,
Gawk at my pained grin
I'm aware of what I am


Every thousand or so blinks, an eyelash will outrun me
But my sleep-craven skin will shed to gain slumber
Count the intervals between each shut,

--Does it make a melody?

no


Scoff at my paranoia,
...