Ever cogless

I’ve time to kill,
but what shall be my weapon?
With my bare hands,
I can fool time,
turn back the clocks,
break the watches,
but time lives on without its cogs,
without the sixty-pointed hands –
three hands that bear but a finger a piece –
and even with my ten mighty digits
I cannot break the ever-counting face;
forever advancing,
my breath held,
my teeth clenched,
my fists locked in,
my eyes screwed shut,


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