Something had to give
Or, it was going to break
…explode into fragments so sharp they could sever gravity
The machine had been running on vapors for far too long
Nothing oiled
Nothing lubed
Everything got too hot too quickly
Everything groaned, screeched, & whined as it threatened to seize
Each piece, to the tiniest, was twisted, skewed, & fucked six ways from Sunday
It was so many things…
The one thing it wasn’t….
It wasn’t good
So far removed from good that it was miserable
A junk pile of outdated parts
A wretched heap of uselessness
The rub?
…it wasn’t always in such disrepair
When it was in its prime, it ran like a syrupy dream
A dream that promised an eternity
Now that dream was pregnant with sorrow, & about to birth a bitter end
It promised nothing more
The well long dried
It promised nothing more
The lengthy, messy, harrowing task of dismantling the machine
Piece by piece
Each stamped with painful memory
…a reminder of what it used to be.