Relentless Machines Poem by Phillip Erb

When will all of us sinners - staggering
Blindly through all the mazes of our own
Tiresome and so lonesome devices - open
Wide the doors to our dazed and tail-spun
Hearts and souls? How are we supposed to
Make everything fine and put down our
Weapons of selfishness without ever seeing
This decaying world with any one else's
Eyes - except for our own two red and
Swollen tearstained windows? Breathing's
Not as easy as it was meant to be; heads
Encased in smoked-filled plastic grocery
Bags that we stuff in the bottom of the
Closet and save along with the somber
Representatives of all our past mistakes
Bearing witness to the tossing oceans of
Pain that hold us here in the same place
Drowning in the unforgiveable and our
Commitment to never forget the past
So that we can change