this sound
gears, they grind
it speaks to me
a communication unseen

screaming
of metal together
"work!" they scream,
work

looking
to these gears once more
locked in place
bound by some normality

the rusty screams
somehow clean-cut
like a knife
sliced open

subconscious--
it leaks out
the ****--
shattered

in seamless now
the seamless that's smooth
the seamless that's the same
endlessly

the substitution
the understudy
ran out of living
we turned to working

to **** us
so hollowly
until we harden up
and rust over

grinding away
quietly working
(quietly screaming)
forgetfully crying