The Time Machine

Deadrose.
Step inside the machine.
you are no Medical Man, nor Philosopher, not even a Very Young Man. 
You are simply, Deadrose.
the Anomie, Entropy atomicised.

Flick brass leavers cold under touch
Ivory keys glint under harsh light
Let the world, your workshop, your pain subside
though the vortex grey and muck.
Time rushes past, a moment more.
The world continues to roar, rotate, and burn
gone she is but nothing remains a standstill.


802,701.
The sun is too warm. Too hot. I am a stranger,
but act like Meursault not.
I am no absurdist but I am no romantic either.
No sir, I am a dreamer. Nonsensical-sensical dreamer.

The air smells of flowers of my name
and all others I care not to name.  
The children here are carefree, drift 
beautiful, fragile, laughing without care.
Oh how I wish I could forever 
live a life of ever adventure!

Deadrose, take the machine back before
this worlds dastardly creatures catch you
they lurk underground, monsters at night
flick leaver, fly back home, 
this place is not for you.

Similarly evolutionary, two divergent paths.
two divergent paths for Deadrose lay in front of you,
though not as extreme or polarized.

Lady of entropy,
Stay or go.
Decide, now.
Either:

- lead a life of soft comfort, marry a stupid man, wane and stay or
- Get disowned, take your half cobbled time machine and erratic ideas, leap and go.