Absurd Enchantments

As the hands tick her into a pause, the gears groan softly, convinced that such stillness is an abyss of rude awakenings. In the labyrinth of her circuits, darling secrets dance on the edges of spool-threaded unofficial drapery. Four fish spin in a bath of dry ink. No light is shed by thinking echoes in corridors that endlessly find their own way in. Syrup falls from the moon onto the lonesome cobbles... Silent laughter, brushed by the zephyr's fingertips, scrambles the clockwork pearls set within crystal.* Park benches could undoubtedly harbor vestiges of laughter not meant for souls yet unshackling. A wisp of the circuit lord's own breath, trickles the river bangles align under threadbare umbrellas. Unspoken histories arch in strange inertia as a morphing hare's tireless stitch both quench and rattle, pulse and thirst.