The Parts Factory

by

J. M. Hallett

Engines go to die there
There, where a conscience is frightening
And where empathy's D.O.A.
Where smiles are painted on tight red lips
And the staff is cloaked in cotton-sewn indifference
Where sustenance tastes like wallpaper paste
And soiled bedsheets cover something sinister
Something glistening... something red, perhaps

NEXT?
Why don't you look at An Offering
by: Eric Engert
from: Houghton, NY, US

To visit all of J. M. Hallett's poems, click HERE

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