The Chronometer of Your Breath
I sit upon this perforated iron throne, a relic of an age
Gothic Gear
The Vinyl Pulse of an Iron Heart
I drift through this concrete artery like a ghost trapped in an
The Clockwork Pulse of Concrete Solitude
I stand against this monolithic slab of gray—a cold, concrete sarcophagus
The Ivory Pulse of an Eternal Noon
I am a relic forged in the cold silence of steel and
The Clockwork Pulse of an Azure Afternoon
I walk through this sterile corridor—a limestone ribcage housing the echoes
The Clockwork Heart's Vernal Awakening
I have existed as an ornate relic in this city of iron
The Porcelain Pulse of Concrete Veins
I stand as an ivory relic amidst the steel ribs of this
The Golden Pulse in an Iron City
I am a clockwork doll forgotten by time, my heart beating with
The Clockwork Pulse of an Amber Afternoon
I stand within this sanctuary of paper and dust, where the sunlight
The Velvet Pulse of an Electric Heartbeat
I stand amidst these velvet pews, a ghost in an auditorium of
The Amethyst Pulse in an Iron City
I stand amidst the weeping stone of this city, a fragile gear
The Clockwork Pulse of Neon Rain
My heart is but an intricate cage of brass and silver, ticking
