Maybe they don't care, Because I'm always, Lying through my teeth, Every time they ask, If I'm okay, The words come quick, Because they're programmed, Behind my lips, I always say, I'm doing just fine, But my fake smile, Hides my constant denial, The lies shown on my face, The words so mechanic, Driven just the right way, Always make them think, I'm okay.
machine.
Author: Aleah
0
Date: 06/04/2020
№ 1207932
Black Lung (formerly: The Machine)
He envisions the Machine as a large locomotive Of a deep, tainted, black metal chugging down and infinite track The eternally glowing red hot coals pushing the pistons A giant crimson cowcatcher is fixed at the front Scraping up followers; forcing them into the vehicle Manipulating Its passengers to smash their heads into the Machine Welding their minds into Its mysterious black metal walls
Stained with the blood of many who have tried to resist Ultimately wounded, maimed, outcaste from society Forever marked, branded by the scars of their attempt When the Machine has used you and-or your mind to Its purose It shoves you into Its furnace—keeping the pistons turning The Machine cannot be stopped—always picking up followers Forcing you into It; becoming one with the Machine
As He looks into the engine room, there is no conductor A runaway locomotive chugging down the track with no end Its only goal: gathering as many passengers as possible Society, Washington, the Media built the machine Their brainchild, but have long since become a part of It Their minds welded the deepest—becoming the foundation of Its walls Long ago abandoning their carcasses to fuel their mighty creation
"Sit down boy, you're tired and you must sleep" The voice said to me as I walked the city street Fuzzy steps taken to a bench I saw over yonder Sleepily wandering, the streetlights I ponder Passive disorientation, I'm lost it would seem Consciousness becomes a trickle, as opposed to a stream Dragging myself over shards of glass, paralysed and sleeping A shadow 'neath the moonlight seems to be steadily creeping Isolated in this park in the darkness on a sigma plateau Dextromethorphan hallucinations are a spectacular show I'm indifferent to the stranger, drowsy as he appears Isolated in the nighttime winds, apathetic to his tears Uncoordinated my head falling he takes a seat softly Dissociative disorder makes me seem awfully frosty Speaking of lands where the populace truly is free Speaking unintelligible words, indirectly to me The intrinsic disconnect of this generation scorned As the sun rises in the sky, glittered clouds adorned My head lulls lackadaisically, I'm feeling unwell But my stomach is eased when I think of sweet Maybelle
[Hers is a Nabokovian tale of passion in proto-dystopian wastelands The first time we kissed, I held her soft head tenderly in my hands The serenade of rain pitter-patter on the ground, like her feet when she's near And hearing her name is as cathartic as those old jazz records I hold so dear But, oh my pretty Belle, your age is a concern to me (and the eyes of the law) So to forget your sweet face, I pop pills neglectfully, passing out on the floor]
Lifting head slowly from the rough ground dampened Four years passed and I'm wondering what happened Fuzzy headed blues, clear my mind with OJ and reefer Walking fast to her house, cannot wait to see her A rap-tap on the door with thoughts of romantic enumerations What she said and what I saw defied every one of my expectations
My innocent Belle, with her cheeks rosy red, Looks me in the eyes, and wishes I was dead
I am the ghost in the machine You raise the curtain and what Tim Burton told you would be there is I will feast on your Innards and cast without regard to your suicidal aunt A hand gun and tell her to have fun I am the devil and it's not evil I seek it's retribution. Join my clan; you don't still believe you're part of some godly plan! Ahahahahah! You're so cute when you're terrified. Go on try and run, you'll never hide. But behind your eyes I smell desperation. And any chance at rehabilitation would be masturbation And yet you have hope behind those eyes. Your mind racing with possibilities that I might be lovable and changeable. But I'm the devil and hell is my navel I control the universe. Your dog got hit by a car. Blame me, He looks better as tar He makes a great floor mat. Should have trained him in hand to paw combat. Your mum is terminally Ill Send me the bill. You best friend dies, hate to say it but did he even try. I control and contort; I do not send hope or Comfort. I am the devil. They say third times the charm Maybe this Time you'll remember I'm here only to do harm. I'm the ghost in the machine. But I'm only as strong as you make me seem.
There he was, His dark hair slicked back as he wove his hand through, The sleeve of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows. When he looked up, his brown eyes met mine. It shone in recognition. For a moment, We turn back in time In the days where I first saw you, When we were younger and foolish. But before my heart start to waver; Before the walls I've built cracks; I turned around and walk away, Just like you did that summer.
Having swam the oceans for millennia Washed up upon the shore Mankind clawed its way out the dirt With a ravenous appetite Unchecked began to ravage Mother Earth Cutting themselves off from nature With tarmac and concrete Burning fossil ancestors polluting the air they breathe To feed the machine Of greed.
