happiness. machine.

I guess everyone bought the machine when it came out The perfect smile The perfect mood The perfect you All it took was a liter of blood And an hour of cranking the rusted lever To achieve perfect emptiness The ribbons that floated from the box Would grasp and pull at skin and lips Contorting then into the face that would Mathematically receive the most empty adoration from uninterested followers After a while It was the only way anyone could emote Unable to to stop the eternal spin of the lever Unable to birth anything that was not manufactured The ribbons lived in their face Threaded their pores Became fibers in atrophied muscles It melted urethras and generated a singular stream of piss That poured from the blue light And into the dried eyes of those