the labyrinth is wet with rain
late nights are lost on a steaming highway
wings are active in the water clock
vast distances where black holes bloom
a thread of vision diving
to get out of the arid spotlight
vast wastelands of bright broken things
buried buttons and circuitry chirping
these bodies are forgotten thoughts
from some run down machine
that captured a meat brain to torture
and reproduced the bones that are lost
a plastic fraction of the infinite cost.
No comments:
Post a Comment