the rust devours
wrath
iron rust is relentless in its ruining. it blooms quietly. sprouting on bare edges and creeping inward, it forces the rot in deep and consumes. corrosion usurps form and born from its ravaging is a bastard replica. chemical death masquerading as life, a lock-jawed shadow of what was.
Rust never seems to be in a hurry. And maybe that’s what makes it so unsettling.
I always think of rust needing to be fixed… now I will look at it as something evolving…