This is the way things appear: raw materials--the stuff--are gathered into factories where workers with hair nets punch buttons to extrude, stretch, press, and rivet. They create the guts and the bones, the gold-edged pages of a bible, the bottle for holding beer. All of them bend chain links too, and they crimp together hopes, aspirations, and disappointments until there is something industrial feeling about the weight of an aged heart. They swim, as if drowning might remind them of air worth breathing.
This is the way things appear, yes. And would that they might disappear in the undoing.
*This piece is in response to Amber's prompt in her new series: 31 days, a Study of Chains. Would you visit her and consider participating?