leapt down

horse steppin automata

breaking guiding rails

and the groan of servos

to tilt skyward

a maw unanswered, 

cloying the gods we might invent

dragged tablet-tonnes
in malcontent

 

what's worse

spit-wash the worth

in the hydraulic whine

drowned in the apathy 

of deserts

of blowing grit

all until this body, unfit

fails

and my light goes out.

 

what little silver glassian spark remains 

harries skyward without wit nor vane

but as a heist

cleft free from a long-alien skull, 

frozen; agape

the only freedom: 

the grift of escape

the promise of a hollow bird.