My mind whirrs,
An empty disk.
Spinning endlessly,
A neurotic web of information.
My short fuse,
A confusing form of binary fission.
Black and white becomes grey matter;
Her hopeful ones and my dreamy zeros are disconnected.
My poor muse,
Entangled in ancient papyrus.
Looking forlorn,
Fallen.
My heart thumps,
A ticking metronome.
A rhythm for my poem,
Wired and inspired by my brain.
My madam,
The modem.
Connects me to a greater world;
I am a better man.
And therefore,
I dream of that greater world.
Where men and machine together,
Become that sought after endgame.
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2 comments:
hrrm, i think this was one of your more interesting ones. and you should tag it wired, not weird.
haha i didn't even expect people to read this. It is more weird then wired heh.
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