#4-4

the machine v.2

red and the garish gold it stains

stolen blood and stolen arm glittering as the liquid evaporates and the superior's intact prize reveals as the rest of the competitior sprays into the hot golden sand

the gold scratches the fragments of metal and glass as they sink fast into the excess

it is a honorless death-a botched and icarian escape, too close to the sun for its own good despite their speed

the only honor could have been its own pride and even that is long gone

the blood will be remembered by the envy it still runs hot with staining the gold, and the arm by its use for the taker

no one will remember the previous holder of the blood and the arm, its purpose obsolete and its vengence useless in the face of the unstoppable and uncaring force