ZILCH-Chapter 9-Hair
The hands let go with a cracking sound
Whipping our Smith to the glowing ground
Bouncing and wobbling his jiggly joints
Green swirls into Red, boiling patches into points
The Machine retracts and swallows its hands
Coiling deep inside its rickety glands
No gagging, no cough, just a calm ritual
To pull out a key, almost entirely habitual
It holds its key in between fingers
And looks at our Smith that unwillingly lingers
"We are going up, no matter what you want
The door to the Vineyard, my current haunt"
Our Smith rises, and slithers up the path
Not wishing to incur the Machine's promised wrath
"It HaS BeEn A wHiLe SiNcE i'Ve BeEn GuIdEd
.....I'vE nEvEr ReCalLeD, oNlY aBiDeD?"
The Machine catches up and scans without warn
Our Smith jumps and wriggles with scorn
"No Smith should be able to think without Star
You are able for now, but stop acting bizarre"
Blotches burn his burns, twice smouldered
Our Smith knows his place and continues, bolstered
He upwardly stumbles, until he smacks into a mesh
A crosshatch door, laced with flickers of flesh
"Now, stand aside, fallen Smith of mine
I must open the way, so stand by that sign"
The Machine takes its key and finds a lock
No time wasted, it removes the block
The door unfastens itself from the clasp
Creaking open, with a gut-wrenching gasp
The flesh on the mesh fall in lumpy piles
Casting rainbow hues on the muddied Pink tiles
"WhAt HaPpEnEd To My FrIeNdS, MaChInE?
WhY cAn'T tHeY fOrM, eNgAgE iN rOuTiNe?"
The hands come again, instantaneous and fierce
Planting our Smith beside the Elevator's smears
The hands hold our Smith's stomach, gurgling
Pressing, tightly, bending inwards, hurting
Crunching bubbling boils in his body
Crushing thoughts of anything godly
........................................
Our Smith loses the energy to stay alert
As the crosshatch contraption ascends overt.
Copyright © Maple Mc Glinchey | Year Posted 2026
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