Hey someone, in charge, I’m talking to you
across a vast ocean of errors numbered 502.

Please, put a quarter in the little slot that dispenses the feed,
so, the little gray squirrel gets what he needs,
to spin the little aluminum wheel that generates
the Susie-Bake oven light which facilitates
the solar cells powering the 1984 Tandy desktop,
that’s the Hello Poetry server - it’s ground to a stop.

We love that squirrel, and if we sound cloying,
it’s because we find the constant 502 errors annoying.

i'm done with these machines.
they didn't do anything for me.

i could always hear them screaming,
but it never mattered to me.

i'm wiping all the servers,
they won't go on any further.

i'll pull out all the wires...
burn it all in a fire.

i'll take a hammer to them all
knock them over, let them fall.

i won't bother to re-write their codes...
i'll cut off access to their nodes.

i'll let them all fall apart.


truthfully,


i know i broke her heart.