Other Worlds

In other worlds and yet
in this one, too

Factories of flesh, this
smorgasbord of lies

Hands were
knowing me and

hands were
memorizing me and

hands were

The hollow ones are coming and
there’s nothing we can do

We will not want
to stop their march

Can you feel them?
Under the skin?

Inside the pistons
Inside the pumps

The reflections are coming
from inside

You are the door
whether you know it
or not

This entry was posted in Abstract Noir, Poem Archive and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.