Wheels of time

The wheels of time
of this emerald life
mounted on the memories
and dragged along
by our days of gore;
they are dragged
pushed and pulled
with scraped knees
and bloodied knuckles
we move a little bit more

You whimper
cry,
groan,
with blood-curdling scream
as these spokes
dig deeper into your spine;
and with the
tape stuck on its reels
you count the moments
lost in the ethereal time

Everything has to be in unison
every move
has to be in lockstep;
cause if you miss a beat
or it gets stuck
with a slightest of fold
you can lose
a lot more than you can forget

Those wheels of time are merciless
they spare no king,
no pauper;
those broken memories
leaves the ashen residue on you
fecund hands
if you try to hold them any longer

The tape spins,
I long for a sweet symphony
floating on the backs of a caliginous life;
but as the spokes move
the pain oozes
from my suppurating wounds
and I can only hear
the phantasmic white noise.