The machine
has taken on a life of it’s own
It has become purpose
without reason
purpose alone
It’s wiring are rules,
regulations
written for compliance
for blind obedience
only for perpetuation
The cold machinations
have no desire
no meaning
nothing but purpose
to survive and grow
And we,
we, are the lubricant
crushed
between the gnashing gears
to smooth the friction
aid the traction
and slowly, slowly
move the machine
forward