Like Violence, You Have Me

I have upon my wall, twelve clocks.
Each is set an hour ahead of the last.
I never know if I am late, should time have passed
I am unaware, uncaring, of these facts.

Solitude in blue hues, I find quiet quite calm.
I seek hopeless abandon, but find myself far from.
Quite quaint in my pinstripes, but afraid to dress down.
I am more known in the nation than in my hometown.

I grind between my fingers like mortar and stone
A phone, yet undialed, and a speakerless tone.
How unwittingly I play, a part set for a stage
And you love will greet me goodbye, in quite the worst way.