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jonas-akstPoems
He’s one of those; those living things. Those pumping, clicking, god-bothering, mechanical, repetitive things. No you can’t, you can’t touch it. It’ll excrete, spill its waste, pollute, contaminate; so don't. Don’t touch it. Quit it. Quit feeding it. You’re making it louder, more obnoxious, more unbearable; a colossus of distraction. Keep your distance. Of course not. You can’t speak to it. You’ll illicit garble, mindless clicks of cogs. Surely it can’t speak back, surely. Just hit it, beat it. It’s not like us, no pain, no feeling, no consciousness. It’ll go on forever if you don’t. Good, now its finished. See? It’s peaceful now, room to think, space to breath, no clogging, living things.
0
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
That living thing
He’s one of those; those living things. Those pumping, clicking, god-bothering, mechanical, repetitive things. No you can’t, you can’t touch it. It’ll excrete, spill its waste, pollute, contaminate; so don't. Don’t touch it. Quit it. Quit feeding it. You’re making it louder, more obnoxious, more unbearable; a colossus of distraction. Keep your distance. Of course not. You can’t speak to it. You’ll illicit garble, mindless clicks of cogs. Surely it can’t speak back, surely. Just hit it, beat it. It’s not like us, no pain, no feeling, no consciousness. It’ll go on forever if you don’t. Good, now its finished. See? It’s peaceful now, room to think, space to breath, no clogging, living things.
#life#living#society#human#robot
Written by
jonas-akst
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
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