The Kafka Machine (or Ode to a Harrow)

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The Machine was beautiful
sleek
and silver-silk

its blades so sharp
they drew your conscience
along with blood

all cogs working
in military unison
for the betterment
of the victim

The Machine
spat out
things
not quite human

things devolved
fleshless
sublimely suffering

but still alive


And that was all that mattered