Rust flakes from coiling tentacles, yet never reveals clean metal beneath. Scrapyard coils and stolen parts accrete, a streamlined shape, swimming through steel.
A borrowed headlight of an eye strikes reflection in Lunar eyes, and rubberbeak scissors open to whisper one word in a voice of gears. "Love."
no subject
Date: 2005-03-26 04:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-26 04:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-26 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-26 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-26 07:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-26 07:55 pm (UTC)I'm imagining it fighting a robotic Capt. Nemo.
no subject
Date: 2005-03-26 09:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-26 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-26 08:11 pm (UTC)A borrowed headlight of an eye strikes reflection in Lunar eyes, and rubberbeak scissors open to whisper one word in a voice of gears. "Love."
no subject
Date: 2005-03-27 08:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-29 02:29 pm (UTC)