Monday, January 5, 2009

Steampunk Mist

I'm drowning in mist. It's so thick I wipe it off my face by the handful, uncertain where the moisture ends and my skin begins. It's all melting together in the heat.

Nobody can see. We are all blinded by this wetness, this solid-gaseous-liquid hybrid that we are wading through like salmon in a stream. In heat like this, the energy is low. We slug it out, blending the burden of hydration with the syrupy air. Several pounds of water makes it from the inside to the outside. It's heavy on our skin but it lubricates the steam off of us faster.

In the distance, the sound of thunder is taken over by the clang of iron and the shank of steel. Pistons pop and pulse in a rhythm beyond harmonic measure. A train whistle blows and I can feel the steam from it's chimney on my face.


Anonymous said...

you mispelled steel.

Unknown said...

Most Ninja would try to convince you that they made no mistake--as if it were a play on words.
However, thanks to the awesome power of rewriting history, I can just change the word and pretend like you aren't making any sense... Then again, this comment gives away my intentions and now I'm too lazy to do anything about it.

Thanks for letting me know ;)