Sewage Plant 109

Sewage Plant 109
by me(whatever)
to astronauts

In 1000 parallel dimensions,
the definition of tachycardia spits out.
In only one, which was left behind
sewage plant 109.

Three red bolts have been lost,
the machinery is searching.
Devoid of even survival instinct,
they look and look.

It floats,
lost in versatile tangerine.
The hue,
effluent in beauty,
emits a life
fallen between the cracks. 

Who is human?
the creation or creator?
When processed from the Grit Chamber,
what is left?

You hold on a rusted string,
the program with a russet face.
The blinking yellow, the blinking blue,
the neon that directs us

Hidden, you look up
emerald eyes in a color-ridden world.
Gazing at unfinished sky-scrapers,
expression covered by a gas mask.

It's strange,
holding you in my back.
the warmth seeps, you can see it,
and for a moment I react.

Though I'll be abandoned.
I know this.
I've been before.

Consigned to the glare,
holding up 3 red bolts.
I have no voice.
You hunch over and throw up. 

No name.
They come to get you.
No one.
can read a creation.

Goodbye. "
you smiled, but
I couldn't see it.

blinking, yellow and blue
in obliterated memory.

1000 dimensions in parallel,
the machine is spit out.
and only one, who was left behind
found it
in Sewage plant 109.