- Posted on
“Mr. Dark and the Sultry Trolley of Death” (A lament in B-flat battery buzz)
By chrome and clatter and haunted beep, Mr. Dark rides when the world’s asleep. Three wheels kiss tarmac like a lover’s sin, A leather-trimmed beast with a rattling grin.
Throttle twitches she purrs then screams, A feral queen in mobility dreams. She’s built for war, for kerbs and rage, A sexed-up chariot uncaged from age.
To the Chemist’s lair he glides with grace, But the Automated Dispensing Interface— That bastard box with blinking eyes— Denies his pills and spouts out lies.
"ERROR: Please Scan Again." He growls, he flails, he screams in pain. The trolley bucks in wounded pride, And traffic parts as they collide.
“Oh sod this plastic priest of pills! May your circuits drown in codeine spills!” He wobbles hard, he curses fate, The townsfolk flee. He’s running late.
But lo! What’s this? A shadow looms In sterile coat from Munich’s tombs. Dr. Fist, the Teutonic fiend, With charts and probes and eyes that gleam.
“I vill examine your... undead gait, Your brain is soup. Let’s puncture fate!” He chases Dark through corridors, With syringes sharp and no remorse.
Yet still he rides our trembling knight, On lithium wheels through darkest night. No cape, no crown, just spasm and spark, The one they call... Herr Mister Dark
“The views in this post are based on my personal
experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”
“By ink and breath and sacred rage, I write.
By storm and silence, I survive.”
@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk