torn apart, an iron heart violently yields to magnetic forces.
two poles of two worlds tug at the specimen's innards.
yearning for something not found in voices...
truth is the sun that eludes the center.

too many tongues salivate cesspools of chemicals,
these gasolines pump pistons in our brains.
tanks in a row trudge towards sacred Petra,
but the bedrock is no hiding place for the sane.

tired sunsets reward the dusty pilgrim with a darkness,
and no moon rises to redeem the fallen day.
machines and men alike make rythyms to move forward.
the way is paved with bones bleached white and rusted plates.