I seek shiny spindles.

 What do fish think about.

Mechanical monoliths cast awkward shifting shadows above.

Warning rituals, their sloth-like limbs blot out the warm hue cast from the bottom of that toxic pool.

Are they dancing?
What are they up to?

They steal our friends with
shiny spindles promising sustenance.

And now they’ve killed my lover.
One quick reach for a shiny spindle,
and she’s forever gone.

But now I seek shiny spindles.

The last sustenance I could need.
And my last recourse.

Simply kill the pain.
Lover, I’m coming for you.