A barrage of grasping hands
Clutching and clasping at
Every minute. Stealing every
Breath that escapes a constricted throat.
Silent breaths broken from
The groan where they are born again.
The core so dense and packed in
Bands of rusted steel wound and
Surrounded by rubber strings.
Gossamer wings. Forgotten things.
Peculiar stirrings that bubble up
To take, to hold the wheel and
Steer, not stay the course.
Finally rewinding in on itself.


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