Broken Machinery

This started out as a free-write, but took on an interesting pattern and became a poem. Enjoy.

BROKEN MACHINERY

my hinges are rusty

my engine is empty

not even any fumes

so I can cough or sigh

or even get high

so I can forget you and me

and our epiphany

that only turned out to be

carbon monoxide

I'm in need of adjustments

something oiled here

something replaced here

(did you even notice that it was missing?)

there's rust where I cry

"You're alright", you lie

so that wherever I go

I lose a bolt with each blow

the gaps in my metal show

the cobwebs inside

-Jackie

You, Illusion

YOU, ILLUSION

You didn't end

up being any better.

You were nothing

but an illusion;

          angled mirrors, fishing

          line, and choking fog.

The sunny aura that

surrounded you,

          blinding and euphoric,

has dimmed

enough for me to

make out the lines, to

see the details, the things that

are truly there.

They are no

longer things that are left

only to my

optimistic imagination,

          sticking rainbows where

          spiderwebs go.

I wanted to

believe every thing you

told me so badly,

          each word a

          raindrop on desert sand

               each word a

               warm, smooth stroke on my head

                    each word a

                    hit of adrenaline

                         each word a

                         smile on my face.

                          But the raindrops were

                          of acid and salt,

                    the warm, smooth strokes

                    slit my throat,

               the hits were

               truly tainted heroin

         and the smiles were

         freckled with cavities

oozing pus and pain.

-Jackie