siranswerer

game over man

I taste the cold steel alloy,
The mineral oil, used
to lubricate the mechanisms.

Chrome plated, crafted limbs
hit my face and my head turns,
with the force of the blows.

Blood pools black and purple,
at my feet, under the darkened sky.
Lit neon signs buzz and sigh.

The dark alley is wet,
And my assailant slips,
As they rush me.

Sparks fly, from overdrive
as I jump, 20 feet
into the night.

I escape across rooftops,
The stolen package safe and hidden,
in a cavity at my belt.

I arrive at the rendezvous,
And laugh and cry,
At my good fortunes.

Ice cold metal splits my chest twain,
Screaming grazing, against my chainmail.
It bursts through.

And the visions end,
When I remove the jack from my neck,
And take off my headset.

Game over, man.



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.