Leviathanof flesh and steelRacing through streetsSoaring comet oftechnological geniusHis fists crush tonsof debris to dustHis sight travels milesover the designated horizonTorn from his life --crusheddisemboweledby madnessinferno and stoneTo be reconstructedby humanoid hands“And I’d rather be dead…”He remembers the whisperof a lover’s breath on his cheekthe head he cradled so gentlyagainst his shoulderAnd he has no tear ductsto give voice to his sorrowOnly the dreams ofhis hardwired heartnever forgottenImaginingsof her soft caressupon his metal browValjeanne Jeffers-Thompson 2008 All rights reserved
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