I tried to create some form of alienation in this poem, hope it worked!

7/11/05

Hourglass

I'm walking
down these empty halls
Each footstep hollow
like the ticking of the
clock
Ticking, ticking.
My time's running out
each footstep takes me
closer
yet further away.
Still the sand trickles
flows between my fingers
until I clutch at empty air
I can't stop the ticking
The mechanical ticking
or the faceted
alien grains
of my burden from
trickling
down, down.
Like the twin blades
of the hourglass
the scythe swings down.
In these empty halls,
The footsteps have
stopped.

R n' R please!