The clicking of clocks
The constant moaning of machinery.
It keeps me from you, dear melody, my dear stillness.
to me it is the beating heart underneath
the floorboards
no one else hears.
yet I am not without reason.
Rather, i wait and long for the day
I yearn |my| I yearn for
for the gears |machinery| this MAN-MADE machine
that click constant |fails| to rust and breakdown
to kink and break open
till then
This everlasting song and sound lay
Buried in the ground underfoot the the low hum of a factory of static
Self Glorification.
