The damask-tipped needle
Gently glides past the marker
Of a time to which none will return,
Trapped in a
Carved mahogany tower which
Encases our memories of
Needles and gliding
In one-way glass.
This divine, embezzled box
Torturously mocks our lives,
But if not for this cruel mirage,
How would we know where the
Time goes?
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 12:35 PM UTC
The damask-tipped needle
Gently glides past the marker
Of a time to which none will return,
Trapped in a
Carved mahogany tower which
Encases our memories of
Needles and gliding
In one-way glass.
This divine, embezzled box
Torturously mocks our lives,
But if not for this cruel mirage,
How would we know where the
Time goes?
Sacred blackmail of a grandfather clock
