I see through your atoms.
I collect data on your likes
and engage in tactical warfare.
I dedicate my hours to spotting weakness,
then hop-jump-skip over them.
I crawl at the feet of great folks
who approach the world at full.
I become inspired.
Anti-protons and protons.
Nuclear particles that make up
the billions of thoughtful questions I have,
all without a voice.
Or an answer.
I exist in something like a game
but I never learned the rules.
I hopped scotch because its all I know.
I fight against the gravity that I create
and instead I choose to orbit
small moons and elegant stars.  
I crash into lakebeds
and leave everything dead and gone.
I am Man,
or at least some guy,
and that’s a good enough title for me.

Its time to be left to my own devices
and rewire the circuitry.
Climb to Mt. Un-climbable,
defeat the monster at the top.
I fear only the reaper and respect his wishes
for his claws are scraping at our windows
every time we hit the pillow.
Don’t dive into shallow bodies of waters
and don’t forget to wear your sunscreen.
Bereft by my own unfruitful devices I search for solitude.

I creep through the dank recesses
of my stewing mind.
I search for meaning
to my ceaseless activities.
I grow closer to myself
and I learn to respectfully listen.
I creep, I search, I grow, I learn
and I am my own companion;
Only I will be there for the rest of my battlefield life.

So here you find me on the roof of my building.
Looking up to find me a star,
so I can name it.
I keep the name a secret.
Mystery keeps the world turning.
I put the name in my artificial pocket
and next month I’ll find it.
I'll pull it out and recall its place above me.
Its purpose, for you, still a mystery
but to me, a religion.
Forged by the great father of engineering,
I stand *****.
I am perfect by design,
but flawed for being made.
No pulse, but my mind is always beating.
Calculating stability, analyzing data,
crunching number after number
and finding a unanimous rhythm.
Time for me is nothing,
and thus I will be everlasting.

I wish I was a haiku,
but it's too hard.

Gravity keeps me keen to the world.
I love the blades of green delight when they tickle at my toes.  
I love the rays of yellow dwarf.
At my freckles, they jest.
It seems senseless how our Masters get away with ******.
We sharpen their blade and willingly hand it to Master.  
And he drives it back into our chest.
A willing sacrifice, I would admit.
But I fear the feeling of helplessness
curses my allegiance to the Gods.
So tonight I close my helpless eyes
and learn to fly for forever.

Back by popular demand
being a ***** persisted.
I'm sick of yuppies in BMWs
that glitter the highway like cheap tinsel
and ruin my view of sunset on Sunset Blvd.
On top of that,
gift cards mixed up with chopped up plastic credit
rattle at the insides of my plump little belly,
and I don’t think its going anywhere.
*Although, I'm getting nauseous,
I wont ***** until the fat lady sings.
And if that's not long enough for you then,
I'll just see you in hell.

Darkness. That was the only thing left. Apocalyptic nightmares turned true.
Groups of families gather at Ralston Mansion packed tight into every room.
Tents pitched and quiet talking.
My tool was an axe that my family used for chopping wood.  
I carried it effortlessly and would never let it go.
The loss of millions seemed like a terrible joke.
A joke of which nobody spoke.
Exploring the giant abode was my new mission.
Gleaming the crevices and dark corners, until I come to a large empty room.

The walls are high, and centered in the middle of the main wall was a single outlet.
From it out pored a strange dark stain that patterned a beautiful fractal.
As I studied the design, the wholeness of the geometric patterns stunned me.
There was something behind the walls.
Bleeding through the ancient wallpaper, something lied hidden.
I was undoubtedly enthralled and decided to force my axe heavily into the seeping image.
Instead of a solid hard noise, a gushing chop persisted.
I hastened my blows to my own disgust and horror.  
For as the chips of wood peeled away the secret was revealed.
Packed as tight as our putrid tents were,
the masses of dissected corpses flopped and thudded and fell to the ground.
Before I could move, I was piled.
I was suffocating and gasping for air.
Then it fades.
When I wake up, I’m sitting on an airplane.
I'm flying to London, and I cant remember what happened prior night.