From the forgotten
In an oxidized cage, flaking centuries of lost technologies, the hum of silence suddenly screams out. Dust layers over forgotten machinery; this place was turned aside right when this world was expected to grow up. And the soot covered half-panes let just enough light in to shimmer on the haze that never seems to settle. Lions of industry are now blanketed by cloths, left with the hope of being liquidated once the dissolving was complete. But even the auction house dared not trespass on an ancient memory that had depreciated to a negative sum.
In this oxidized cage, where the dull red seems to bloom under the grey-black, the smell of dead dreams blazes hotter than the exosphere. It feels calming to be awakened in this dark corner, seeing the busy bodies not moving; to feel the stillness that sees mountains move.
And the temperature is rising as filaments return to their natural state. As epochs come and go, the glow is slowly creeping forward. This forgotten warehouse, a furnace with all the tools of continuity stacked neatly like kindling, wait for that ignition point.
In an oxidized cage, I wait for the smoldering that feels so close.
In this oxidized cage, where the dull red seems to bloom under the grey-black, the smell of dead dreams blazes hotter than the exosphere. It feels calming to be awakened in this dark corner, seeing the busy bodies not moving; to feel the stillness that sees mountains move.
And the temperature is rising as filaments return to their natural state. As epochs come and go, the glow is slowly creeping forward. This forgotten warehouse, a furnace with all the tools of continuity stacked neatly like kindling, wait for that ignition point.
In an oxidized cage, I wait for the smoldering that feels so close.