i am industrialization,
grace of the modern world.
i am all action and all talk,
big words in boastful suits
that reek of condensed time.
i am industry, beautiful
damaging mechanical death
of humanity, since flesh
inevitably bends to the will
of iron and steel.
i am mechanization, the tick
of seconds minutes years
a life that can be counted
in coffee cups and commutes
and songless sighing.
i am a machine, a part of the
big works of other mens' hands,
the rising of the sun
cranked by hands that worked
all night or all their lives.
i am the rusted, broken cogs
the useless creaking joints
the clock whose hands are still
the broken man whose spirit
refused to keep metal company.