Where Our Scrapyard Meets The Earth's

Earth's turbines and engineers,
The hustle and bustle from below deck.
I stroll alongside the magnificent machine,
I hear it all;
The roaring: consistently in the distance,
Waves fighting;
Clambering over each other to the shore,
The wind bites at my ear;
Causing great pain and headache,
The crows pick through the litter,
Strewn across this mechanical wasteland,
Like vultures picking at a corpse,
I meander through;
Pebbles, rubbish, seaweed,
Blocks of concrete, bricks and driftwood.
The dunes give way to cliffs of clay,
Being eaten and ebbed by the tide.
Such a beautiful machine,
Such a beautiful monster.