Desde el Baúl: Entrada No. 4

En esta entrada de "Desde el Baúl" le saco el polvo a otro escrito en inglés del 2010.
Inspirado por una noche amanecida sin mucho que hacer en casa de una prima mía, escribí lo siguiente en una libreta.

Es en inglés y se titula "Milisecond of time madness" y trata de un hombre llamado Lawrence Wilcox y como se siente traicionado por su invención, el tiempo. Años después descubrí en Google que es el nombre de alguien que existe en la vida real. Sin embargo, lo que leerán a continuación no fue escrito por él.

There's not enough hours in the day, to make the headache go away
This cursed manmade invention of time regression is driving me insane
There's not enough hours in the day to take the stomach ache away
It's nothing like I've ever seen inside a TV screen 
That rips me up inside and makes my soul decay.

It doesn't make any sense, as these clocks keep on ticking
The calendar pages keep on ripping. 

It passes all, all passes me by

My mind says "Go, go, go."
But the pain ridden conscience yells "No! No! No!"

And tears ignite, like circuits of dynamite
And my heart pumping fast, afraid that nothing ever lasts. 

It's not a superficial feeling 
In my mind a land of make believing
I run and try to hide, not to get taken away
By these fears in blade shapes that come in tides

I wanna move and spin, for reasons that seem to have no purpose
No goal or theory, just an act is enough. 

There's not enough days in the hour, to change the bittersweet to sour
Not even in the day when I want my heartache to go away
That I've spent all my energy using myself to be inane

I close my eyes and try to sleep, but these words spin around my head. 
I guess I don't have to tell you
Explain, analize and even theorise, that I am guilty for the time invention
I betrayed myself by following the hours for a second of madness inside the shadows

That time never stood still, and that I wish it will
As I grab a cinnamon toothpick, and feel like this moment is no picnic.