Clock It (Blackout)

Ping.
I clock it.
Again.
Ping.
I clock it.
Ping.
I clock it.
CLOCK IT.
Door hinge clicks.
Light tube hums.
Footstep shifts.
Body knows some.
Mirror catches half a face.
Mind stays still.
Eyes mark place.
Not twitching.
Not weak.
I just hear
what others sleep.
Tiny sound.
Small thing.
Store it cold
when the world says ping.
Ping.
I clock it.
Ping.
I clock it.
See it.
Lock it.
Ping.
I clock it.
Two a.
m.
Fridge light pale.
Streetlight cuts
through the curtain veil.
Truck door shuts
three houses down.
My pulse stays flat.
I map the sound.
Old work followed.
Home got thin.
Every quiet room lets
the radar in.
No liquor poured.
No escape hatch.
Just breath count slow
and the door chain latch.
Small crack.
Soft step.
Wrong shadow.
Not yet.
Body first.
Mind second.
Threat pings once.
I reckon.
PING.
Glass.
Door.
Floor.
Light.
Breath.
Step.
Left.
Right.
What was that.
Where'd it move.
Who saw first.
What comes next.
Rain taps code on
the window skin.
Pipe knock sounds
like a room break in.
Cart wheel squeals in
a grocery aisle.
I track every hand
and I fake
that smile.
No one knows what
the body saves.
No one sees how
the radar behaves.
I stand calm by
the cereal shelf.
Whole store mapped
like a hostile cell.
Threat map burns
behind my eyes.
Red dots crawl
where quiet lies.
One man home.
One man gone.
One man hears the
whole night wrong.
But I don't twitch.
I don't fold.
I just file it
in the cold.
Little things poke.
I don't swing.
I store truth
when the world says ping.
Ping.
I clock it.
Ping.
I clock it.
See it.
Lock it.
Ping.
I clock it.
Ping.
I clock it.
Ping.
I clock it.
No fear.
No panic.
Ping.
I clock it.
Ping.
I clock it.
I store it.
Fridge light pale.
Door chain still.
One life.
No respawn.