Alarm

The alarm

sounding.

The machine begs.

It yearns; it pleads

in bargaining to have

an audience for

the alarm

sounding.

I lock myself up in the

claustrophobic expanse

of the wide open forest,

but isolation serves

only to amplify

the alarm

sounding.

Neither ignoring can

absolve the quandary.

It drills and drones,

and life gets a headache

when it hears

the alarm

sounding.

It cracks the skull

Its power interminable;

its influence, perpetual

and the others join so

now all the machines have

the alarm

sounding.

The others do not

take heed, and it

burrows inside them

parasitic, it finds a home

in the complacent

and now the people, those who

have never heard it before,

also are

the alarm

sounding.