Rumble of Engines
Firing the raging forces of chemical warfare in every cylinder
Upon collision of these particles
An offspring of mechanical movement is born from the rigours of combustion
It has strokes for a pulse
It eclipses shyly over the tar of the freeway
I was told on it's fourth
It moves.
Today I'm petrified by the rumble of engine and metal
A well painted box with four wheels that is to swallow us whole
An Uber that savors the highway to my coffin
I wonder if the vehicle that is to unmake me is made yet
The Japanese are probably working on it as I speak
Are my to be afraid of the silver that lines my own pockets
For we created this
We are a generation of steel and engine
I hope to place the letters RIP on my plate
To remind myself of how it is to end as I climb this beast.
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