An insect was caught in a spider web,
the way it was shivering is the only way you can shiver for death.
Eight legs were all at work for the spider, a cosmic cacophony in it’s approach towards the trapped life.
I was in front of this big machine and I was thinking about this scene I saw many times before.
It was the end hours of the day, I worked there for the whole time,
and at the closing I saw this flattering phenomenon in my subconscious.
Normally I would say it’s metaphorically relatable,
I am the insect…this huge metals is the spider taking me in,
but that day I thought about the other way around.
For a change I thought I have done enough to be called the spider.
I have survived long enough to cast my web through this world of pseudo happiness…
Machineries are my sweet victims now…I put a bullet through them and drink whiskey by the blue drapes.
I live inside my little world of beautiful women and no men and the insomnia that grows around all of them…
No matter what you crush in your rotating weapon, the juices of them will always uplift your thirst.

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Photograph: Krzysztof Browco.