 |
| Photo Credit: Rob Hanson |
such a familiar place
to be surrounded by machines
in a basement
or an attic
I endure the heat
the humidity
all these obsolete machines
you don't find them any more
damp air feels sweet
I taste it, only thing I can taste
in the nothingness of being
"come morning, all will be a plain field
no house, no attic, no me,
a ghostly presence. beware thoughts..
I come only on certain nights"
