I am robot.
Built for entertainment.
Bringing smiles and laughter.
My creators gave me a rockin' role.

Inside me.
Ones and zeroes play.
But blues runs through my circuits.
My audience have no clue to my code.

Elvis lives.
A king among kings.
Rusting from the inside out.
An iron heart with a human smile.

Dragging my knuckles* on the sidewalk
      I find myself hoping for a *spark
     that would confirm my mechanical makeup
        Titanium and servos buried mere inches beneath faux flesh
        Scraping concrete

         *Friction, it would seem,
           is the only force powerful enough to reveal me to myself

Labour all day to make another man's dime.

I find myself on the wrong side o' this paradigm.

Turn on the television, distract me from my career.

There's a newsman speaking, I'm sorry I didn't hear.

There's a politician speaking, I'm sorry, it's not very clear.

There's an army of robots marching, excuse me while I blankly stare.

let me lose my mind to the screen.

jingle your keys before me.

I am bereft  of independent thought,

what our ancestors predicted this was not.

For those on top, this is what they want,

an army of robots bereft of thought.

They built me, standard-grade,
But with one crucial chip missing.
While other models are made
Programmed for social networking.

Laughter and jibes, except
This variant groping in the dark.
Much signs to intercept,
Machine simmers, overheats, sparks.

Every version upgrade,
Alas, still just one step behind.
Patience in every trade;
Stranger, if you could be so kind...

Silver skin and copper veins
Rusty joints and beta brains
No one thought, I.E. Me
Would get to FEEL differently
My mouth could say the functions
Every thing from meaning to time
To the way airplanes mimic birds
But never could it find those words
And yet with your presence
Your file hidden and bound
A corruption in my databanks
404 Not Found.
I can name you every color
In the spectrum of the light
I cannot seem to find a name
In the coloring of your eye
I cannot name your existence
It's far different than I
I am but a robot
And you are something I cannot describe
How can you compute
Even more than me
Yet still have the essence
To make you want to BE
What ARE you?
What have you done?
You've made me feel frightened
Of what I've become
I know I am not a robot
But that is how I think
So with this Will I have installed
What will become of Me?

Fear not little one,
Everyone has a purpose.
How quaint you must feel,
Like destiny ripping at your wired circuits,
Looking for meaning.
Looking for purpose.

It's not just you,
We're all wired that way.
Don't lose heart,
Your work, though minimal, has purpose.

Know that there is meaning in everything we do,
For there is a master plan, working itself out.
Even if it seems useless, faint, or unimportant,
Don't lose hope,
Do not faulter,
Don't stop or stutter,
You do more than pass the butter.

I've conjured a clone
More successful, more attractive, more lively than me.
Taking them into my home,
I feed and take care of them, I polish their bolts and bits.
How I wish my bones could shine silver like their aluminum ribs.
I dream of being as productive and managing,
As talented, daring
Motivated, driven.
I sometimes get the urge to peek under my skin to search for foil bones,
But I crave more than the cold sensation of chrome.
   Tell me,
   Why do I feel this way?
   If I'm machine,
   Where will I go when you die?
   Where will I stay?
My dear friend, I do not have answers, I only have more questions for us to ponder.
However, I believe when I lay down to sleep
Your engine turns off,
And your gears stop turning.
When this happens do you imagine a dream?
Or do you imagine you are living?