What time is it?

there is no perfect time here
all the clocks 
tell a lie
and in the walls
are murder
ghosts begging 
why oh why
we moved in here
not long 
before
all hallows night
and every day
for two weeks
straight
we christened
our new
plight
of freedom-
what was once
sweet bliss
has turned to loss
of innocence
Freedom?
While these walls
encase
our dreams
and all our demons
our dope
and all our clocks
which lie to us 
each day and night
like almost all our thoughts