The Machine


She cascades the twilight of shadow and demise
Steel hinged frame retrieving circuits buried in an icy fortitude
Each jungle of twisting licking the clamped fusion of rods and pistons that eternally stink of decay
Only to harbor the flesh of dirt and leeches teaching it's patterns to occupy the brittle sectors
Eyes rerouted in a hollow opaque majesty
A cylindrical form rotating inside it's cavity of sunken sockets
Where staged venom mimics human tears
And dances down cheeks that had rusted from centuries of an oiled supremacy of neglect...
Shaping the chiseled likeness of a metallic elegance
Her smile retracted by needle and finite thread
Exacting the pully like structure that automates the muscular division of subtle gestures...
Intriguing gravity to hold upright her archaic form
Powered by a human heartbeat
Tensing by mechanical atrophy
She wades swiftly through the darkened rooms....
Her creator asleep in fine linen
While she plugs into the union of where death becomes life by electrical impulse
Channeling her smile to glisten slowly. ....from a rested state to an experimental testing....
She withdraws her stance into a feeble kneeling...
While powering the twin turbines that contract the iron lungs of life in a cold submission....
For here she will sleep....
she will dream....
of death....
of life...
of innocense....
of all that she has mirrored in the expression of her beautiful gracing ....
Stairing at her shadow across the room.... Reminding her of what she truly has become...
what she was made to be...
and how midnight can live inside the heart of a machine that longs to see the sunlit walls ...
of love and mercy ...
of sadness and sorrow...
And all the things she will never be....
Where deadness is her friend
Coldness the clammy hands that hold her own...
And darkness sleeps upon her shoulder ...

Eternal...

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This Poems Story

This is about a "machine"..