Chrome trees and

stainless steel blades of grass

crimson drops slither on the edges

And petals lay rotting

The golden sun hangs on the horizon

of a satin sky

and blinds an infant tulip

grown in a mass of copper

It’s youthful veins yearn for water

and suck the acid from down below

It observes as it withers

A large coiled cord

at the back of the sun

and a few civilized men lethargically rotating a dial

and the sun starts to set






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This article has 2 comments

  1. Yusra GJ Reply

    Wow! Scenes from your new dystopian novel? ^_^ Your descriptive powers seem to have reached a new level. The closing image of the clockwork sun is so haunting. In fact, A Clockwork Sun. Makes a catchy story title! You heard it here first. ;)

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