Pinching out from the rotting layers
Spreading them across the fragile cloth
Fragments of forgotten time between the fingers
Bending down for a closer look
Is that still a reality which can be compared?
Decayed time smells unpleasant
Surrendered to the immense pressures of change
All those ill-fated clocks have been abandoned
The fragile cloth cowers after some time
What else could be revealed?
Trite narratives of serpentine nature
Hibernating for ages