The Beautiful Machine

Space for thought balance beauty of the void

power of complexity built on itself chaotic system

producing new order terrifying lonelyness meaningless computations

chaos repeating old broken patters My bones are ground to dust by the enormous gravity halving each space ad infinitum the yoke digging deep in the flesh

the aurochs spurred on by the cyclical hope of freedom

what new quarry can these immense stones masticate

what fodder can satisfy the beasts


the spoils of the machine lay asunder sundries worthless

save the work

bread of bones and dirt acrid bitter unsaleable

The Beautiful Simple Machine is waiting for the next crop to be grown


◄ Love MySelf

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