| martinam - Death Metal (tas pekshni mani iedvesmoja - piedod) |
[Nov. 2nd, 2010|11:27 pm] |
Once I had allocated one of my five gears, the prop-shaft wheeled slowly on its axis, transferring the energy of the tapping pistons of my chest area into a circular motion, which was suitable for copulation (or as it it is fancifully known among the recently greased on the nipple - 'meshing'). In some romantic manuals this has been described as a bell-like diving bell (I know, I know) come magnet, which on whining chain is released into the silty waters to rest among the zinc and cadmium of the heavily-metalled sludge of the bottom.
It is the rusting season: outside among the long grass in the corners of the scrap yard, the saw-like communication of insects has ceased: they lie dead as iron filings.
Back in the corridor of low-level uncertainty, where I find myself absentmindedly double tasking, the meshing process has ground into a monotonous rhythm, upon which I add my own stress and emphasis, creaking and whining like the supporting struts of a busy bridge. I look outside - there is not long left: Cars pile up on top of each other in a maddeningly inarticulate way, waiting to be crushed and boxed and melted down, while in the background the mechanics wipe their nuts, stroke the flange of their bolts, look at pictures of 'universal drivers' in their manuals, and listen to death metal. |
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