I search for him... like a scavenger looking for a feast... from the castle ruins to rusting stacked pipes...deep tunnels in the earth... and through neon caldrons that light up the city... is he a man or is he some bioengineered automation... a manufactured life form given little attention... except by me.
Tonight I am on the hunt. Nothingness is the very excess that flows beyond being -- Beyond the infinitesimal horizons of cosmic pleasure. The devil is at play beyond the confines of the mind. Language is the immanent trap that infinitely failed. The scavenger is patient and bides her time... waiting for the right moment is a gift...
When they see me coming they flee... and still, I search for him. We are like the movement of gears on a clock tower ... do you remember how we fit together? Not able to move without the other. For one cog to find motion, the other must also.
Remembering you tonight... the wheels and cogs in brass and gold glimmer in the mist. Do I hear you manipulating the ghost in the machine... tarnished and tattered by time and misuse...mechanical lungs, screwed in ribs like art gone mad --- all the while I hide behind my steampunk heart in the shadows that beat in confusion and lust... Waiting to scavenge the remains of the feast.
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