Friday, April 29, 2011

Mechanized

Tear my flesh and sinew from my bones
Leave me out to be mechanized
Stamp. Press. Cut.
Stamp. Press. Cut.
My mechanized world is shuffled down the conveyer belt.
Stamp. Press. Cut.
Stamp. Press. Cut.
Why would I prefer this mechanized world to one of
Flesh.
And Sinew.
Stamp. Press. Cut.
Stamp. Press. Cut.
I only need to be oiled in this mechanized world.
Clean out my gears.
Make sure my tanks are filled.
Stamp. Press. Cut.
Stamp. Press. Cut.
I am not perfect.
I will make errors.
Parts will be made out of spec.
Stamp. Press. Cut.
Stamp. Press. Cut.
You have made me and I can only be as good as you made me to be.
You didn't think out through all the flaws I could have.
You had to let me run to find my flaws.
Stamp. Press. Cut.
Stamp. Press. Cut.
This is a world without feeling.
A world where my flesh no longer aches to be set free from its attachments to my bones.
A world where my skin below my chin no longer aches to be split open.
Stamp. Press. Cut.
Stamp. Press. Cut.
I am free to make mistakes here.
I am free to be fixed or left to rust.
I have no feeling one way of the other if I
Stamp. Press. Cut.
Stamp. Press. Cut.

Thursday, April 21, 2011