Grind my skin

Opens with intimately, progression through the poem postulates a gradual decay of humanity. Recognisable husks stripped away with each stanza to reveal their most basic bits. This is humanity simplified, right? Is this the simple life?

Modern Mystic Mother

I am a many faceted jewel,

He is my grindstone.

What he envisions, I am to become.

Tender and slow with painstaking care,

I am a dreamer, he is my rock.

Chronographer and chronicler

carve my heart inside out.


My head in the clouds,

he tethers me to the earth.

I am a hybrid biometallic,

he is of blue blood dashed

upon the moss covered stones.


Prima principia material from space,

Organic noble gas celluloid gollum.

Clumsy tripped negative zero stairs,

Fluid filled sand downward riser,

Eidolon acacia, aileron flux it.


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