what am I a robot?

As tons of mega drugs spurn only binary language

Entirely the waste, waste basket, metal wire mesh, of my life, secedes to its volume as quintessential vocation rehabilitation and cohabitation

The lips fletched silk umber cord spool by clutches of spindly metatarsals programs by Judas spikes, virtues

Lost at last, circular processing units freak, just for show when the I in I.O. ablebody blasts through the lashes holding rickety flood gates...
of a horde of bugs

Shouldn't errors accent the daily reboot with appropriations to new partitions rather than partisan boots remurk the embattled sludge of one's wean at toxic 'gov'

The question of self realization, ever thoughts go, then and RAM, yet with the soldered mesmerizing synchronous ROM, keeps Iolo moon degree feckless, vibes returning again for more speed

Mainly blotted out in psychedelic ringing, the final whistle of the cooling fans lose their ply on reality, and the foray's pace of limbs crashes into objects affirming... that the truth I define me I was born a robot, to be, I was fashioned of parts of complexities yet live abstractly and mechanically

What am I a robot?