Bionic

from Immense by postwriter

	/

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lyrics

She was a pressurized cylinder that he loved to dip his piston in.
It was more than oil.
It was more than lubricant.
This fluid motion of hydraulics and precision.
The pieces fit.
They were meant to.
This machinists dream of perfection.
The sound of etching serial numbers on plastic.
The drag of metal on concrete.
The methodical plodding of programming that lead to something greater than their parts.
She was a bobby pin twisted into the shape of a ballerina.
He was the factory that bottled emotions to make a living.
Together they were a system;
closed and fluid
apart they were scrap.
But, they refused to be refuse.
Over time,
even metal rusts.
Over time,
even concrete turns to dust in the breeze.
Things got thicker,
Things got dirty,
Viscous is the word.
The world is Vicious is the world.
The elements have never been kind to machines.
So when the time came for them to go to the yard
they both drank a bottle of the sweetest emotion they could find.
It was a good year.
The one where they were first put together at the factory,
all glistening and gleaming and ready to do great things,
and they listened to the hum of the factory
as their gears wound down for the last time.
And the last thought that went through their mind was bye binary.