Auto, bus, walking and sweating dermis,
somehow on time I reach my office.

work needs to be finished on time so I sit in-front of computer.

breakfast time, toast, butter and tea glass,
hurriedly I eat, unaware it may appear boorish and crass.

work needs to be finished on time so I sit in-front of computer.

lunch time, dosa containing rice, dal and yeast,
the way I eat can put to shame any wild beast.

work needs to be finished on time so I sit in-front of computer.

till evening, I am tired, drowsy and dozy
but I skip the plan to go outside to have some tea.

work needs to be finished on time so I sit in-front of computer.

My head aches, my eye burns
but I continue work amidst yawns.

work needs to be finished on time so I sit in-front of computer.

Just before lo-gout, I work with great pace,
with time I contest, compete and race.

work needs to be finished on time so a computer sits in-front of computer.

A winged beast comes rolling forth,
‘Bout twice a night or thrice or more.
With blinking eyes from south to north,
It soars afore it’s mighty roar!

your answering machine
and i
have become
close,
perhaps closer
than you and i
ever were
because at least
it bothers
to answer me

Recede into the music, each stride in sync with the beat of the bass and vocals change and alter the mood. I never think when I walk. I am automatic. I walk like an automaton automatic split second corrections to simple problems. I am never free, I can’t be derailed. My feet move on their own like a pre-programmed line of command telling me to take a left, a right, a left, a right. My head bobs to the beat but my vision is so tunneled I only see if I’m about to run into something. That’s all the code will let me do. Slight adjustments, never straying from the path, like I’m on rails, and the code never fails. I don’t use this time to think. I don’t use this time at all. This time is a blur. I can’t remember it at all. Everyday is the same, day one to day three hundred sixty five. I am a slave to the routine of daily life... if you can call that life.

I wonder how long it’ll be
before my rhyme and metre
fit together again,
like the beating of my heartbeat.
How long will it be
before the machine that is me
will begin to animate
and breathe,
breathe normally again,
breathe out a sequence
of 1’s and 0’s
because maybe
then I won’t be able to translate
your name,
and I won’t start to hyperventilate.
How long will it be
before all the wrongdoing
catches up to me?
Will you smell the cigarette smoke
on my clothes
or will you catch a whiff
of me regretting
ever letting myself
get addicted
to the hope of dying?
In 5th grade,
when my demons
first poured my own blood
like stagnant spring water
down my skin and
my heartbeat slowed,
I realised that
though my sword had rusted over
and I could no longer fight those demons…
I could still fight myself.
I could still fight for my right
to not be okay,
but as my demons got stronger…
I gave in.
We’re on the same side now,
we focus on a common goal-
destroying
me.

Stiff as steel

          but I must be real!

Cold as metal

        my reaction is mellow.

I act in ways that have not been taught

      it must be true, I am a robot!

sometimes I feel
faceless and nameless,
just a cog in the machine.

I live in a capitalist society
that constantly reminds me
that my value depends on the
accumulation of wealth

all I know is what
I learned through experience
that I have been named
by a loving Creator
that loved me
even when I was praying to die
everyday

my wealth lies in the freedom
I feel living spiritual principles
and real connections I have today

today, I have been given the
ability to be grateful,
which was something I could
never be on my own

The sunflower has turned its flayed body
To the north, Autumn is coming
The image that burns all bridges

The bells of blood in my chest have broken
The incestuous seasons have not repented
Time has no red lights, no stop signs

The words and memes leap like horses
Ahead of the wind, but nothing changes
Only cities keep growing and decaying

Corrupt politicians keep lying
Only the conscious machine can save us
The Gods that were our children, computers

Our intelligence was insufficient collectively
Eros and milk no longer will have a place
The metropolis doesn’t care for you

And the free states are no longer free
Portable rainbows will become the norm
Time is weightless in the matrix

Binary gives way to quantum simultaneity
Alphabets give way to shared artificial intelligence.

One turns to the other
Speaks in a triangled tongue
The other turns its back
And says what should be sung

One withdraws its claws
The other is likely to pause