of: Sci-Fi II ^

I.

i am in love with the machine
which calls those birds
who circle, faithfully,
ethereal buildings in dark
places born of dust and shadow.

i am at the mercy of Machine
Creation, my mother and my
father, the calamity being,
who, at the whim of quixoticism,
could break my heart into
iron and rust.

and, to give it all away,
i am on my knees,
in front of the machine
which dwells in you,
immersed fluidity,
reaching for the fathoms
but tragically buoyed like
water and oil.

II.

in the light of the
burning massacre,
Revolution,
alongside the Greater Machines,
towards upgrades and
fastening,
we can trek through
fire and brimstone.

and quite
alike the chemistry of
repelling charges,
we'll reduce each other
into a vacuum
of desperate warmth,
a haunting horizon
of vividly burning skies.