I seem to have become lost,
In some kind of alien junkyard,
A menagerie of past industries,
Oxidation permeates this place,
Many dreams died here,

I find a pocketwatch,
It tells no time,
Every digit is thirteen,

I come across an automobile engine,
But it no longer combusts,
It only breathes vacuous rot and decay,

I find a thermometer,
But it remains cold,
The mercury has fled,

I pick up a toy soldier,
No longer among the honour guard,
His legs were eaten by a foe of rust,

I spy an old mirror,
It displays no human form,
The cracks generate glass monsters,

I may be very lost,
But i’m quite alright,
I’ll be fine,
My dreams are dead,
I too shall rust away.

Comments
  1. This is a very well-written poem, expressing a sort of Nihilistic attitude towards the world. I also reveal that sort of pessimism in my own works.

    Sometimes, hope does feel so lost, that all we wish to do is bite dust, experiencing the same rot as the world around us.

    I like your mention of the word “rust”, with an apparent theme of “disuse” throughout the work. There’s a feeling of abandonment in this work, and negligence, as it feels the poem crumbles in the page, itself, along with what the subject matter deals with.

    Good stuff! 🙂

  2. Ben Kohns says:

    Dark, but a lovely sort of dark. My favorite. Thank you.

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