Body clock

Ok, well aside from having a not-very-functional body clock right now, that is what I decided to title this poem. So here goes.

Cracks creep up the wall
Seeping through the
Powdery Maroon
As the stale air clings
To the shadow
That creeps upon
Twlight
Dripping through
Thick fog and
Smeering crystal light
Over the ebony that
Cradles the land
Fading into an
Ancient mystery as
Time waits
Yet the echo of
Rhythmic clocks tick
And memories engulf
The darkness
Tragic tears spill
Reflecting a glimmer of hope
That reverberates off the
Mirrored walls
And clings like fresh mist
Rolling the beads of dew
Into the depth that
Morphs
Melts
Hardens into stone
And the ruby soul
Flicks against the ivory
Secronizing with harmony
Within the machine
That creates the spec
Of existance
Who dances to the bitter
Flavor
By the dimmness of the
White light as the
Giant thumb
Is tapping
Tapping
To the music
Of the earth
The planets
As he writes a
Synphony
For the gripless
galaxy

Yeah that was kinda long. Sorry. Also spell checker isn't working, so my spelling is horrible. Welp I have to go to class again...and leave my pathetic attempt at poem writing. And yes, that was supposed to represent something again, it's not that hard to see. Ah my freaking computer is being dumb. CRAP. Well laters!