a machine,

that bears down,

slowly grinding forward,

over the golden fields,

equals the heads,

rolls life,

into a smooth holocaust,

entombed in a small glass cube,

where people can still see it,

during opening hours

a small procedure,

in and out,

we take the parts,

you don’t want,

the parts,

that make you uncomfortable,

the eyes, the ears, the mouth,

and this really needs to go,

so while we are in here,

the heart

a thought,

flailing wildly,

through the mind,

needs to escape,

slides down to the stomach,

bursts through the entrails…

…tentacles of human gore,

suck it back into the mind,

even the body, it is,

a machine,