“Machinists” by Eddy Holcomb

in offices, they have given

us the neverending,

blue light syringes and those

electronic flowers that drowse -

a billion red poppies.

will we ever wake?

from the field - from the lake.

will we wake from our drown?

did the dive do us in?

or the climb - exponential in its “growth“?

growth is misunderstood

for evolution.

and we have evolved

out of the human soul

organic and naked;

we have become machinists.

attendants!

it scares me white -

even now -

how frightening is this carousel -

this trapeze in parried pleas -

this silent anesthetic.

and time ticks on by

and by because

it takes a lot of imagery

to make it through at midnight.

and addiction is a discipline

as is everything.

yet nothing is made in its whole -

i suppose my obeisance

is a virtue

to those who drink in profits

of the manufactured - the artificial -

the dull brights upon our face

that cook and mollify -

assuage us

into grey, grey ‘peace’.

but when we wake

for our sake,

i’ve seen the choice

and cries till we sleep

and weep in our fragment.

Eddy Holcomb is a freshman student pursuing Molecular/Cellular Biology with a minor in French. He is a writing editor on the LSWA Arts & Literary Journal, and he greatly enjoys all forms of artistic expression. In his free time, you can find him playing tennis, writing, going for walks in the Arb, and spending time with the people he loves.

Thumbnail image from macrovector_official on Freepik.