Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Melody Mann Dec 2022
Arbitrary numbers scatter her mind's surface,
Operationally stunted she scurried,
For no deviation could solve the turmoil vested within,
It was hope vested in the cosmos,
An escape adorned in constellations,
The unwinding of a student.
PJ Poesy Dec 2015
Poetry and binary codes confuse me. One speaking in affects of numbers, the other in numbers of affectivity. If one could break the code to love, unrequited, divinely impassioned, or other obscure mixtures of, I could only see a cryptic deepening to such woeful confusion. Could one assign sequencing to the untangling of emotion, so that naive lovers might surpass calculated risk? If so, should it be done? I insist, it should be done at once. Assigning bit strings of zeros and ones to compute perfect poetry in which a reader might be forced to fall in love by measured affectations, algorithms deciphered to personal tastes, then subjected by power of suggestion encoded in grandiose pairings of words, suited to the individual reader, ah thus, I begin my army of love slaves. Are you reading my subliminal messaging? You see now, that didn't hurt one megabit. Did it?
If only it were that easy.

— The End —