Echoes in the Gloaming
The clock hisses, a shower of echolets upon cracked porcelain forgetfulness, sneezes of wind carrying placeholders, reminders become quenched with flame,
wandering through sable threads until the last is consumption. My dear vapors; your memory slipped through reed cages. Is this nostalgia serene? Oh transient as wedgwood rain.
Noticed and Known, the subterranean time tunnels burst into forgotten sculptings long beneath me.
The last letter stained, dissolving hieroglyphics over embroidered ceremony in a hall of dust;
threads skip under ash-grey coverings, until the lamp quietly sifts shadows.
Echoes divide; division becomes a home itself.
Enter the Labyrinth
Her fog-muffled voice pierces this fossil sepulcher.
Among niches remembered, they linger longer within amber chains.
""Preamble to the interlude" echoed loudly as wall liquidations spilled their cries. The sweltering depot housed voices:
antique, eternally blond, with distant jangles attached to their yesteryears and ill-kept verisimilitudes.