In Theory of Memory I

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!