Time

Flexing it's smug little fingersIt
sirens the warning, I'm lateAlerting behind's
misdemeanoursEvoking a cause for
irateMidday it mocks at my
cerealI'll eat what I want when I
chooseBeit, mantel, on wrist, or
imperialIt needs batteries to inflect its
museI have corpses of time in my
wardrobesBrass innards and springs, pins and
strapsIf this obsession with early
continuesI have water to quiet its tick
below tapsNo more typing to tocks timely
tempoPilfering hours and seconds through
weekIts derisory smirks are dissected in
secondsAs time meets its in wardrobe
cliquePeering from churches lewd
steeplesFigured from number of bodies in
shopNo flight from its scathing
precisionNo escape from the govern of
clocklex ? 03