Words tremble on my lips,
falling, I beseech you;
"Come Home, Come Home!
Fair maiden of Old."

But nothing except the cackle of goblins,
is heard upon the stone.
Screaming "I submit."
To lose this Game of Thrones.

There is a place I go, when I'm really tired,
On the verge of sleep where words and
   voices
Come freely into the brain and I know,
I have work, or appointments, or something
to keep.

It leaves me,
   anxious
For the days when I never kept anything,
It was so much freer.

Surrounded by machines,
Part of the circuitry myself,
I can speak from experience.
That we are all computer chips.

We may pretend to eat, and sleep,
we may pretend to love and
be happy. and sad.
But we are all computer chips.

And none of that will matter,
to the mainframe.

Please unhook me.