METAL BLOOD
Oh, and she knows the difference
Between night
And day.
She knows the difference
Between dusk
And dawn.
But she does not know
The difference
Between metal
And flesh.
She traces the blood splattered
On his skin
Like she was a child,
She pauses,
Yes, like a child.
She touches the ruby paint,
Oozing out of his body
Because he is a factory of sorts.
A factory, built from the
Industrialisation
Of his own heart.
And oh the things he produces.
The clink of metal chains that bind him.
He produces his own fear.
Well, most of the time.
He is a hulk,
But the hulk is now
Limp.
Closed eyes are
Brimming with blood
And not tears.
And she wonders if his tear ducts,
Throughout his life,
YOU ARE READING
Stagnant
General Fiction[ collection of things that never really fit, short stories, poems, whatevers ] Things that could be so much more, and yet churned to a stop.
