This poem is a record of the most horrifying dream I ever experienced, wherein I was totally blind and deaf, sensations being limited to the purely tactile, and I experienced something that could only be accurately described as hell.
I don’t know who I am or where I am
I see my warm red inner eyelids
A veil of veiny noise atop the scene
Of a field as black as void
Here I stand, with both my feet,
Center of the circle, surrounded by people,
Who all stare at me with caring faces,
So I’d see, if I could see a thing at all.
They have all been waiting for this moment,
and (I recall that) I’ve worked so hard
So at this time I’d know I wouldn’t let them down
I will prove myself in my initiation.
My hands proclaim the start, they move with creative weight,
My abdominals tense, my groin gyrates,
My feet keep the pace to keep up the intensity
I step so and like this, like that, and like so,
The hands all the while know where they have to go
My mind is coming free, and I think that I know
That what I had to do I have done rightly,
My transformation into what I shall now become …
Dead. Like that. At least, about to be.
The last living feeling grasps to my flesh.
Uncomfortable. Limbs angled disjunctly.
A warm pressure all above me and beside me.
I’m moving. And I don’t think I am alone.
That warmth, takes the shape of limbs and faces of others like me,
Pressed together, chugging along automatically like factory
Like a monstrous train made of a mushy rotting mass.
Days pass, the redness goes evermore darker,
The squeezing, is too much for me, I gasp and scream mutely,
But we all slide on and on, the violent corpse slug
All the while our dying hums viberate me.
We were sent off for sacrifice, now this I know,
But as for why we were, remains a puzzle.
I’d think more clearly without the gurgling reverberance,
The pressure, the lethargy, drowns my breathing slowly,
My memories of life — don’t flash me like I thought they would.
Who am I? My body’s cold. It’s already apart of it.
Over the years my mind drifted upwards so slightly
That it was a shock when suddenly, I was afloat and free to go.
There’s another circle with one in the center.
I float above, the people press unto my eye
Though blind I am, I note a boy is in the middle
He dances so similar, nigh the same, as me.
I know the dreadful fate of this, but I can’t warn him.
And so suddenly I feel I have gone back,
The hum, the flesh, the crushing mass
The lack of a name, no memories of mama
All I recall’s the pains to lament what we are.
A hundred years go by, the hum repeats
O’ it repeats a thousand hundred times,
And I’m still stuck with a crooked arm,
And a pain in my neck resting on a leg,
For two-three hundred years of crawling,
Viscously seeping across some giant pavement
All that time, tis all I have done
Snap. Out of the wall. Over some people.
The same shape underneath me, like an evil eye,
I know this already, I have seen this five thousand times,
O’ yes, I may’ve lived a million years inside the machine.
I’ve learned how not to think, for nothing brings a greater pain
Than to give reason for why we’re put into this cycle.