Wells' Machine by Ian Ernzer
an invitation to sit down
eating with their hands
what do you call this?
the calm of evening
one question leads to another
all that remained of the Arts!
running down the slope and falling
nobody moves to help her
gathering in a great house after dark
a nightmare
what are you, anyway?
a stare from the small, white creature
a terrible truth dawns
let go, you fiendish things
being tugged violently backward
reaching the sweet, clean soil
listening to fears
discover a use for pockets
two large, withered, white flowers
lost in a forest
in a monstrous spiderweb
searching for signs
world, what are you like?
comforted by brown and brittle flowers
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