DOES NOT COMPUTE reads the bright blue screen in the velvet stillness. i am a fabrication, and if you transliterated my binary codes you'd find the doctrine of the bored and the lonely, the prime numbers, the untouchably melancholy.
DOES NOT COMPUTE i can see it on all of their faces. like the equation too complicated to understand, the one that you drop and decide to revisit later, like the one that you never get around to revisiting, i am the unfinished problem on a piece of paper covered in irregularities and eraser marks. if you decoded the algorithm for my glowing blue soul you'd find a lot of insecurity.
DOES NOT COMPUTE i am every error message. imperfect, i can pretend to function well until one thing goes wrong, and the guise that i've been hiding under is ripped apart. and then it's even easier to see the uselessness.
DOES NOT COMPUTE i'd built up so many firewalls to protect my core, but you must have been some kind of heart hacker because you put out the fire and bulldozed the bricks. and now my information sits there for you to defile, clicking, clicking, clicking until you've gone through every single megabyte of my existence.
when you boot me up, the electricity running throughout my body keeps me awake for hours.
DOES NOT COMPUTE* *reads the bright blue screen in the velvet stillness. i am cold, but when you turn me on i get so hot that it burns even you. if you transliterated my binary codes you'd find the doctrine of the only-half-functionings and those only running on half battery.