The Wrench

The words were stale and restless in his mouth, so he spat them out onto the floor,like the gristle of an overdone steak; and her brow furrowed over every writhing anecdote, as his falsehoods lay withering at clumsy feet. So, she could see through him; He was more than ready to let it all burn out, he was tired of the rot. Tired of running his tongue over teeth begging to spark under weighty words. And she… She was done carrying a corpse with the arms of a shadow; Memory can only drive a vessel so far. So, as the sun rose and dried out the flesh between them; the finality of goodbye drove them apart, like a sunrise, that can never be set. Not again. It’s all just earth now. Decomposed; however tampered: It’s hot asphalt burning the toes of lover’s dreams. Molten Steel falling unto the breast of a newborn city. Pollution choking the quake of sentient evolution. Love dampened by the leak of morality, fidelity…. It’s so easy to throw a wrench into the machine, and too damn tempting to watch it burn… -James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.