Bullets and Surreality

It's always 7:30
or the clock has long since stopped.
I'm not really sure which,
but it makes me feel on top
of everything.  I like control
of time and space in my mind.
It makes for conversation
and helps me to unwind
after a long day of rest
and dreaming of that day
when I will get to kill the sun
in my own very special way.
Clouds can fly by my eye
and days pass like jumping fleas
from the back of a dog in water.
Somebody stop me please.
12 bullets loaded,
each one with my name.
I shoot the moon so patiently,
because that's my claim to fame.
Again, I pull the trigger
and look back at the clock.
Time is meaningless, my friend,
when you hold the glock.