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Poem

Days are sharp as memories pass 
As the idle thunder attest 
to storms of unsettled wrath. 

They gather together on the opaque horizons.

The engines of the highway HUMM 
and 
the grind with the heaviness of an iron heart
…eons-long!

Full of oily thoughts and rusted parts,
in memorium when machines ran 
by our hand only in the theory of history, Grand!

The city reeks of oblivion and abstract thoughts…

Infinities' echos were sharp redrawn imagery…

Antiquated days nestled in idol thunder!

of tomorrow’s memories…ALL
In the theory of memory

Now all color is 
…is the color of embers 
As we rust like echos that pass 
into the wasted days, abstract!

In theory of memory…
               Only the bitter last!

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