Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

Sound

I figured that since it still applies today and that this blog is turning into a wasteland, I’d post this brief poem I wrote about a year ago.

———————————————————————————————————————————————-

Numbers
The clank of lead and steel
Flawless simple machines
Guided by rhythm
Acid flows throughout
So painful, so sweet
A world where the man doesn’t make the machine
But the machine makes the man
Maybe I can iron out this concavity
Or evaporate vast stores
Of clandestine melancholy

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