Wednesday, January 27, 2010

god martin,
i wish i had any idea where to go
i've been lost in this factory for weeks
at first i was happy
watching the mechanics of machines
listening to the release of steam
its long metallic echoes
in a place too soon forgotten

I compare it to the time you played spoons for me
that memory passed a few days
your fingers were so nimble
and how shocking your palm was never sore

but what am i to do now
the power's been turned off
the machines no longer turn
and the steam no longer sings

so martin,
here i am
sitting on cold cement in the dark
water is dripping from the pipe above me
it's pool etching closer
and i have no idea where to go

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