Sad Poems: In Perpetuity

small machines beneath the flesh dig their tunnels. we measure their capacity in ugly equations. 

we find each other in a frenzy of touch. 

little birds with their wings cut off. bargaining with the wind. 


we wear our identities like stained dresses. the arrogant architects of a false utopia. 

the timeline is corrupt. full of soured kisses and faded promises.
 

we are. we were. we have been. torn smiles under the fractured light of tomorrow's stare. 

the world surges.  an anathema of choices. 


when the small machines eventually fail, we only have the holes that they've dug. 

and what we choose to bury in them.