Autopticon

I moved the clock in my living room to another wall.
But my muscle memory hasn’t caught up yet.
So when I wonder if I’m running late, I still turn to where it used to be.

The old spot isn’t empty, though: a mirror’s hanging there now.
And instead of an answer I find the question staring back at me.

High noon. Who’s gonna blink?

Taking on yourself is tricky.
No chance of winning by standing firm.
No use in retreating and going for a lesser foe.
No way of getting through without taking a beat down.


revised version – first draft posted on 31st of March | also accessible on Medium

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