Rusted Machine

Rusted Machine,
grinder of dreams,
metal shavings
pierce inner-me.

Within the gears,
greasy, I sear
and cease moving,
twisting, crush me.

But, it’s my home.
Echoes. Alone.
Dust? Deepening.

It smothers me.


© CGT, 2017-2018.

Talk to me.