Copper walls insulated the cold heart of gold,
   with limbs of steel extending out,
touching the comparably icy concrete floor.
   The perfectly symmetrical skull of bronze contained
   an inhumanly small encephalon of cobalt,
packed with scarlet wires and a
near invisible flashing microchip.

Alone in the sterile room,
the infantile Adam,
now standing for the first time,
observed his surroundings as he further
         extended out his limbs – taking his first steps.

The metal boxes which burn people’s eyes

Are a way to escape one plague by immersing into another

On it the people are communicating with portraits

That look like deceased ones' photos

We burrow where they lie, our fallen brothers. Old sweats and fledgling crow bags, both. In death as in life, they have our back…and so we plough on into the abyss by the light of a caged phosphorus flare, hot metal spraying the midnight hour like some vengeful fay’s buckshot.

A human scaffold supports us for the distance of four miles. That’s Piccadilly to Hampstead; Circus to Heath. The length of a lifetime…of  hundreds of lifetimes. In the winter when the rains come and the trenches run like a quartermaster’s latrine, the soil sloughs away to reveal the ossuary within. It is then that I, in my now customary delirium, imagine that I can reach out to shake their hand again.

So lonely,
Gone quick,
Labeled selfishly,
Spirit split..

What was blood,
How'd I find,
Thick as mud,
This alternate mind.

I've got my eyes,
Dead opened up wide,
I've got the dirt,
And the spit of,
The world all dies.

My mouth on the metal,
Lips of a scarred girl
Got angels in the lobby,
To put me in line,
I won't ask for forgiveness.

My little faith has gone dry,
I've got my Christian's for scripture,
Death has crawled in my ears,
Music of songs I shouldn't hear.

And it spins all around as,
We all lay down some faster than,
Some do it better in smaller amounts,
Ending the time we all had together.

©️shaneia

a metal plate inside me, ever since—

It wants an escape and so do I
— trapped, we're both trapped.
They told me it wouldn’t come out without melting
So I collected some sticks, set fire to my lungs
—the smoke came out of my lips
in shrill screams— I’m a forest

And my blood, a scared squirrel;
runs up and down my depths
with a blazed tail. burns what it licks
—the bottom of my muddy grounds
trees trunks, branches, leaves and nails.
the bridge between my brain and I

and everything shuts down—all lights go off
in the dark, only fire remains
no one dances where she does, no one lives where—

and I turn the metal sheet over
and over the flames
It heats up, it cooks and turns red
its edges kiss my flesh and he winces
— melts—
dripping into the fire—
gone—
and I turn the metal sheet over and over
It blushes but never bleeds
dry like dead leaves, but never dies
doesn’t melt, nor soften,
doesn’t even breathe—

and the flesh keeps dripping and then rebuilds
and the dripping rebuilds the fire
and the fire rebuilds the smoke—
but the metal never melts

the smoke creeps out and I let it
Someone tells me to stop the noise
but I say I never said a word—
And they tell me to stop the noise
But I say I never said a world—

and the smoke comes out and I let it
and they tell me to stop the noise
but I don’t say I never said a word.

and the metal never melts, the fire never stops
and I never say a wo—

Someone clamps my mouth shut and I fall asleep,
turning the metal over the flames
turning—still turning.
Still turning.

Turn
       ing.
and all in me screams.
                             Turning over
             and over
and
over.
      and
          
—ov
        er.

and all in me screams.

show me
how to be

what I need
who I am
why I care

when's the new?
where am I?

Black Sabbath baptist
Sings heavy metal gospel
Every Sunday morn