So well timed are these things. The dam bugs are everywhere.
Tick Tick, the clock goes,
gradually taking life step by step in a methodical ritual. Time passing constantly, the past increasingly long, the future, increasingly, short.
The clicking sound of time marching on so I've heard. Who said that "time marches on"?
It's sucked out of you gradually, the need to find a reason. When you...well.
Somewhere between the blood sucking and the time ticking, the need to find a reason to season the measly, becuase all I find is the life being sucked out day by day.
"The moon is down, I have not heard the clock" Fleance in Macbeth, Shakespeare. Act 2 Scene 1.