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E-Motion
The Glory of the Machine is
Hatred streaming from red sensors
Sadness pluming in hot vapors as
trees fall, wailing, crying,
their dark leaves pool at
their upturned roots, which flail helplessly
through the air
The metal liquefies rock
and
The chrome solidifies streams
Animals cry out, bursting
like so many balloons
trapped by
pin cages.
The vines burn, and smell of love,
soon engulfed and gone,
now just a memory.
Humans marching
all sitting
all standing
none breathing
The ferns spark and smell of humanity,
soon engulfed and gone,
now just a memory.
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