Imitation James Joyce

I sit in empty silence
Whirring clocks and tires
I know that there are things I must be doing now.
But it's done.
And the guilt of it all comes crashing down
Perpetuating the cycle.

Fingers point blame at the inconsiderateness.
I know that it is what you were thinking too.
You made your decisions.
I wish you would be strong in them.

Seventeen threads of pure gold
Suspend me in the darkness.

One by one, they snap.
And I fall
And as I fall
I wonder
When will the bottom of this meet me?