I hear your name everywhere
Your whispers in the buzzing of the bees
Your exasperated sighs in the beeping of the cars
Your ecstatic storytelling in the humdrum of random noises

I see you in every hue
Your calm demeanor in shades of blue
Your road rage in shades of red
Your cheeky laugh in shades of yellow

I taste you in every way
Your kiss in this smooth black chocolate
The warmth of your hand in this bowl of soup
Your icy stare in gulping this cold water

I smell you in every scent
Your warm hug in this cup of coffee
Your compassion in this bouquet of Stargazers
Your glistening eyes in this cigarette

Doctors, please help me
I have the rarest case of synesthesia

When it comes to you,
My brain malfunctions
My senses, once numb, feel everything
All at once
In the most passionate and
In the most heightened sense

To feel you in everything.
To experience you in every way.

My eyes only see you
My nose only smells you
My tongue only craves you
My ears only hear you

My brain only perceives you

My synesthesia
Is only in the form of you.

I've forgotten morality,
Dignity, mortality.
I'm barely a human at this point.
So impulsive, self-centered
Self-loathing, ill-tempered.
Sanity where do I join?

It's hard out here for an automaton
the sun is hot on my metal
Over heats my copper wire
Causes all manner of motor malfunctions
System failures
In cold winter days the residual wetness I step in
shorts my circuits
and shocks my partners
I am fond of small coffee shop nooks with outlets.
I don't need to travel too far to recharge
And since I'm so shiny
often briefcases and lipstick come around
sit their lattes on my discarded instruction manual pages
To offer me oil
I will let them insert the Nettie *** shaped disk where they choose
it's rough being a clock work boy
I set myself to operate
at three hours before is necessary in case
I'm distracted by some new upgrade or need
to document another error message.
they never write me back,
bronze looks good on thigh plates
I had this woman notice my key today
protruding from my back
the translucent panel showing into all my cogs and gears
she said she wanted to turn it
back, so she could see my program
run it from the beginning again.
I warned her, turning the key
would only turn back me.
I would rather let the program run on it's natural course,
sure, I'll get closer to the end, but I'm a curious construct
haven't seen the end of my functionality yet
woman keep coming up and asking me to turn back the key
and I am weak,
but don't worry I said
if I run out of energy, you can always turn the key back.
I'll play it all over and you can remember.
She didn't like the idea of doing the same thing over either
she turned the key, waited for it to run out,
left me on the doorstep for some other person to turn back on.
it's hard out here for an automaton.
the sun is hot on my metal
over heating my copper wiring causing all manner
of motor malfunctions
and system failures.

That night you told me we were the same kind of crazy.

I take a peek at you through my Wells goggles. I've had a sip too much of my grapefruit ***** and we are the only two people in the bar.

I'm light as a feather and with gin nipping at our noses, we let Jack Frost drive the car that night.

That's the thing though, sober or not it's all the same game. The wells is just gasoline to ignite our volatile roulette.

Drink number two still as pink but this time I'm ******* faster. I'm trying to imagine that the lime at the bottom taste like your lips and I am inching towards your soul.

That night you told me we were the same kind of crazy.

Chemical malfunctions in our past, led us to that moment. Infinite understanding of misunderstanding.

I'm light as a feather and I let you drive home, but I never asked if I could stay.

I cannot do simple math to save myself from blushing. As people start trickling in I count my breath and catch the eye of a familiar stranger.

He was wearing the most arousing scarf.

I wish that was your scarf.

With Jack Frost waiting in the car and grapefruit in my veins I count the steps synchronising the strides with my heartbeat.

**** it's cold. Please let me hold your hand.

Pack the bowl, pack the ****, pack the one-y

Isn't it funny that rhymes with honey.

Glossy eyes and records. Your White as fresh snow sheets.

I digress.

Why do you always make me leave?

I could just lie with you, I'd just like to listen to you.

We talk, but vaguely. I wish you'd open up to me.

I'm sorry.

Comfort keeps us swollen, but what we have is frail.

Maybe I don't love you, but I don't feel cold to you either.

Give me something to think about when you aren't around.

You're my friend.

Platonic, no depth, just silence.

My vocal absence attempts to create space for your stories.

What are you about? How did you get here? What happened to make you untrusting of my company?

These are these things you think I cannot see.

Somewhere in our cloud of smoke is the door to your heart.

I don't want it to be mine, I just want it to tell me stories.

When the seed of  enmity is sown…
Shocked mind dawdles  
    Anger takes its  seat
Startled brain malfunctions
   Germ of jealousy sets in
Pained heart  cries
   Hatred  straps  relations
Interest  fades away
   Vengeance  creeps in
Zeal dies away  
   Cunningness takes its position
Curiosity  passes off  
    Disillusionment  walks in
Passion loses identity
     Rivalry  spoils  relation
Keenness  to knowledge dwindles
     Harsh words  have no wisdom
Actions  become meaningless
    Despair leads to madness…

When the seed of love is scattered …
Words gain  wisdom
   Compassion binds the relation
Spirit of pride looks up  
    Actions have aim
Friendship and brotherhood grows
    Zeal and passion intensify
Progeny adds value to life
    Parentage gets importance.
Everything around looks colorful
  Life becomes meaningful…

So its for you and me to decide
Which seed to be chosen  ….
Seed of enmity or love
To make life worthy to live …

How to cook a gourmet (whatever the hell that means) dinner:

Step 1: Send your boyfriend a text inviting him over for a romantic, candlelit home-cooked gourmet dinner.

Step 2: Remember that you are forever alone and don’t have a boyfriend.

Step 3: Go buy mass amounts of chocolate and cry about it.

Step 4: Get over it and invite over your grandmother instead.

Step 5: Preheat the oven to 975 degrees

Step 6: Freak out about the fire in your oven and turn it off.

Step 7: Open all your doors to let the smoke out.

Step 8: Get out all the ingredients you need for the recipe you are
following.

Step 9: End up eating most of the ingredients before you even get to
use them.

Step 10: Spill oil and wine all over your recipe book (umm pffft the
wine is TOTALLY one of the ingredients, that’s why you had it out… heh heh… yeah…)

Step 11: Panic and try to dry it off by taking the book outside and waving it around.

Step 12: Watch in horror as all the pages in your book tear and fly off
into the wind.

Step 13: Chase hopelessly after the pages down the block screaming
swear words and having a heart attack.

Step 14: Politely smile and wave awkwardly at your neighbour who
hates you.

Step 15: Yell an apology across the street to that other neighbour who
REALLY doesn’t like you with the little five year old daughter who is
now repeating all of your colorful vocabulary words you just yelled.

Step 16: Reluctantly accept the fact that your recipes are gone. And also
that you have just contributed to the global problem of littering the
streets.

Step 17: Walk back to your smoke-scented house in shame.

Step 18: Look through pictures of scrumptious-looking meals on
Pinterest.

Step 19: Get inspired and decide to put your brilliant idea of creating your own recipe into action.

Step 20: Get out your frying pan and throw a bunch of random ingredients in.

Step 21: Put out yet another fire and realize that marshmallows, sprinkles, raisins, baking soda, orange peels and liquid gasoline probably wouldn’t have tasted very good together anyway.

Step 22: Wonder what the hell is wrong with you.

Step 23: Get distracted by the television for half an hour.

Step 24: Try to microwave 2 week old mac and cheese you forgot to
throw out.

Step 25: Watch as your microwave malfunctions and spontaneously
combusts.

Step 26: Decide to clean it up later because you just cannot even deal
with it right now.

Step 27: Fill a *** with water to make pasta and try to boil the water.

Step 28: Somehow manage to burn the water.

Step 29: Wonder how that even happened?!!!!

Step 30: Give up and call the pizza delivery guy.

Step 31: When you grandmother arrives have her take a seat in the
kitchen.

Step 32: Call an ambulance when she has a heart attack seeing the mess
in your kitchen.

Step 33: Get ready to leave and drive after the ambulance to the
hospital with your grandmother once the pizza arrives so you can
bring it with you. Get a call from the pizza place.

Step 34: Listen to the manager explain that your pizza spontaneously
burst into flames in the oven and they are terribly sorry there will be a
delay in the delivery due to this.

Step 35: Pass out.

In the midst of nothingness
Searching through darkness
Embracing loneliness
Comprehending vagueness
Befriending uncertainties
Playing with vulnerabilities
Absorbing obscurities
Appreciating difficulties
Drudging malfunctions
Living with illusions
Addicted to intrusions
Slave of temptations

Colors of dark grey and black fill the world in which I live
No other feeling could possibly be worse than this
Where once was a room filled with laughter & Cheer
Now stands loneliness, emptiness and despair.
Memories of you seem to creep around the corners of my mind
Endless haunting images of your face that won't decline
An overwhelming of emotion that my body can't contain
Fills my soul with unbearable grief, sorrow, and pain
Oh, How I long to hold you in my arms just once more
And tell you that things will be again, as they were before
But, as reality sinks in, I know that will never be
For the choices that I've made in my life have sealed our destiny
No one could ever fathom how wretchedly my heart aches
And how I greatly regret that you've had to pay for my mistakes
If I could go back in time, and change only one wrong that I've done
I'd go back to the Hour, to the second, on the day I lost you.

Love is like,
A man born without arms,
He lives his life accepting his disability,
But Constantly jealous of those with arms.
he sees people with arms of every variety; skinny, tattooed, bruised or muscled, and even some like him.
Everyday he watches people use and missuse their arms,
Yet Barely appreciating the mere existence of their own arms.
One day, he hears about a new procedure that could give him fully functioning prosthetic arms.
He is hesitant about the cost and risk,
but decides he must try.
A week later after a successful surgery,
The bandages finally fly free, and so do his arms.
He flexes and bends them every way possible,
testing the boundaries of what feels like a new world to him.
There is an endless beauty in their function.
He feels a joyous wonder,
to experience the touch and precision
of his sweetly sensitive fingertips caressing the surface of anything in their reach.
For the first time, he finally knows what true freedom feels like.

  Months pass as he becomes familiar with a new world under his fingertips.
But as time goes on he begins to notice occasional malfunctions in his daily tasks.
He thinks hes losing touch with the connections used to communicate with the main circuits,
But doesn't think it could get worse.
As Weeks pass more connections falter between him and his once perfect partner.

The day starts like any other winter morning,
an icy cold, cloudy drizzle.
He's driving the windy back roads to work,
rounding a sharp bend in the road, when he suddenly feels a spasm ripple through his arms
ripping his hand from the wheel and all control.
His car veers off the roadside cliff
leaving gravity to doom him to an icy river below.
The car careens through the droplets of rain in the air.
His world slows down as the car begins to plummet downward,
only seconds before impact.
The freezing icy rain and air rip
through the broken windshield,
but nothing feels colder than the betrayal of the arms he once held so dear.
And in that moment,
he wishes that he'd never had arms at all.

I'm still caught up
In the faucets
Ive been brought up
My losses thought up
In loss-less
Fossils
soldering
The slaughter
Atop
An my inner adulterer
In the fodder
Of a ****
I am the will
Of my weakest link
Give me a shrink
To **** away at the sheets
Of freedom
Drink away the stink
Of freedom
You cant free them
Cant believe them
Cant be them
Just retrieve them
From this life
Deceive them
To the knife
Bleed them
From the heights
Of ego
Let em flow
To never
In the blight
Of severed stems
With sedatives
And seduction
Isolate the malfunctions
Of my internal combustion's
Busting in
Annihilation
Of the problem
Manifestation
Of the solemn
In columns of regret
Inscribed across my chest
Blessed with contempt
For the clause
Unmindful of the laws
And stalled
I will stand
Where you fall
And call
To myself
From the stealth
Of broken homes
And hungry dogs
I am the fog
Of arson
The discontent
Of the larceny
Of the peasants
I'm blessed in the curses
Of burnt
Churches
But in worse ways
Im versed
In aversive
Silence
Dispersed
In cursive slices
I realise this
Is
The decisive
Moment
In which i wake
For the sake
Of procreation
Infection
Of a system
Convection
Of a prison
Citizen
Of a religion
Under taxation
To live in it
I'm illiterate to the
Commonalities
I cant depict
the squiggled lines
Its a tragic comedy
Giggling to the rhyme
I think it is
Perfection
At its peak
Pulp for the weak
Its neat!
I cant tell
If i am half awake
Or half asleep
But text is cheap
So i bleed
On screens
But dont mean
A thing
In dreamless
States

Figure out the password.
The only way you could do that, is if you were the mystery machine itself.
It stands alone, by itself, clustered with other machines.
The mystery machine is an investigator, figuring out what other machines are up to. Their own password.
Then a human comes.
Trying to figure out the mysteries of, Mystery Machine. Why does he cry, when its not allowed to have emotions, why does it fall in love, with whom does it trip with. Why does it have malfunctions, but auto repairs anytime, he comes to find out the mysteries. He has a handbook. He twisted, and turned the ****, gave the ***** a little jiggle, Opened the head and climbed inside. Everyday people would walk by the mystery machine, and try to look inside of it. But all they could see was a child locked up inside, sleeping for comfort, living inside a mystery.

The elegant madwoman with a golden valor.
Louder than the falling trees
stumbling everywhere around her feet!
The spiritual mother, everyone's empress,
a concrete rose blooming over every obstacle
as if she were a one-woman, 21st century dynasty
with no malfunctions in its empire.

But, there's something writhing its way out
from the cellar reserved for her scathing history.
Past the cobwebs and futile pretensions of valiance
lies this warrior queen's greatest desire:
shrouded in shame, the need for love still haunts.
But it won't some accessory amid the ninth cloud!

Hard work and minimum wage flow much more smoothly.
She's known this since she discovered the world,
since she entered a home full of broken furniture
and reeking of alcoholic breath and stagnant, bitter tensions
that were released when father's fist met daughter's face,
and her bruise-soaked body became the symbol of her innocence.

That must be why she spends so much time
in the darkest Brooklyn alleys, selling her self-respect
to any man feeling particularly kind that night,
and letting any detrimental cycle resurface
for just one rush of vulnerability.

This contemporary queen dons a crown bejeweled with more grit
than the streets of three New York boroughs,
yet all she requires of the world that she holds in her hand
like a ruler deciding the fate of her people
is someone to transform adoration from myth to reality.
Will she ever find light from the alley?

You and I were introduced as the wheels left the ground
And we angled towards the heavens.
Hundreds of miles per hour,
South bound, towards the Florida Keys
And you mentioned the  unusual serenity
That lies at forty thousand feet.
I memorized a trusting face while turbulence
Interrupted our peaceful flight
And you found your first opportunity
As you played in on my fear of heights.
You ended up following me, something I never expected
And like an unwelcome pest,
Like a moth or a spider,
You took up residency in the cold dark corners I neglected.
You so intricately spun your web of lies outside my home
And when you introduced your bait,
You let it dangle above my doorframe,
And I didn't hesitate.
I sunk my teeth into your tragedy and you wove me in
Leaving me tangled in the silk you manufactured,
All along that's how I let you win.
I let you tear open my stitched up wounds
And peel back my flesh and expose my interior
I let you examine how my brain functions during REM sleep
I let you study my neurological system,
And I gave you a private screening of my dreams.
While I was busy over analyzing your past
You were rerouting my neurons
And creating malfunctions within the synapse.
You rewired my entire nervous system
While I let you research the functions of my cells.
You're nothing more than the insects and the pests
With too many legs that crawl along my cellar walls.
Like a daddy long leg spider, I never saw you as a threat
Until you tangled me in false intentions
And left me for dead.
I learned the daddy long leg spider
Has a poisonous venom, lethal if injected
But it was cursed with a mouth and teeth too small
To leave any human the slightest bit affected.
But I was the one who allowed you
To shrink me down and make us the same
So your tiny teeth could penetrate my skin
And leave venom in my veins.
And it was only in that moment, finally standing eye to eye
That I noticed the lack of conscience in your irises
For the first time in my life.

Sleep didn't quite find it's way to me last night
I felt crushed by nothing but a great deal of pain
Aching all over my body from my head to my toes
Beginning to feel like I'm going mentally insane.

No way to escape these hurt feelings so I'm being told
No cures, no instructions or any such easy ways out
Doctors aren't particular or sure on how this will end
No such clues or any directions to what this is all about.

Suffering from morning through the middle of nights
Affecting my mind, my body and taking over my soul
Extremities malfunctions and the stinging under the skin  
Causes me to cringe unwillingly and to lose all control.

Loss within myself because of the endless pile of sorrow
Gratitude for the good life ends with nothing but grief
Fighting this battle and all the fictitious stories of hope
Grasping for any moments that spell any signs of relief.

maturely premature thoughts preexist inside
waiting to explode and marvel
at the symmetry of our meetings,
asymmetrical
incongruities.
unthought veils bearing everything
mysterious. magic rarely happens
when eyes open slowly for the
first time. life hatefully
spiteful, vengefully
insipid, unknowing
uncaring,
who cares, time
lost,
repent,
recant,
re-imagined revisions,
systems breaking human
conditions, connections. see
past the humanity,
inanity and insanity are deliberate
malfunctions- there is beauty
inside every action, movement, and
word.
torrents of half thought forms cascade
over fickle answers,
responses to help your quest. yet
in the same ******’ breath you say
‘you’ve thought too much;
imagined
enough-
excuses are all
you need’ while
i cry to you in silence,
you’re missing the beat, the
form, the aspect and motivation
of the intellect that you
so silently yearn
for in your verbal
abuses.
this will only get you so far before
you see as i see
or not at all

Pupils like pins altered in transmission
A lump in the mind jumpstarts to life
It's only a matter of time before the malfunctions occur
For some tests and trials the result is cancer
Ask Moscow after fifteen years
Grasp your cellphone without an ounce of fear
Deny the facts right in front your face
or be a minority of one
Completely insane

I'm not here,
nor there,
not truly tangibly anywhere.
As transparency slithers about my veins,
i'm  phantom,
silent deathly.
Eyes carry and lurch black holes
to quicken about the pupils.
It's the faceless death that paces about you,
rests against your blooming breath sitting next to you.
If I cradled the malfunctions,
misplaced to mutilated insides
about my criss crossed shoulders,
wingless back of blades,
death will but flutter in resemblance
against my skulls frame.
Transperce,
unravel about the living,
wings of dust reel,
I phantom of deathly....
a faceless orphan forget me.
Gods got no place for the dying ghostly.

Permeating - Begins with a simple dispute, argument, disagreement, and conflict with the individual. Second, temperate levels arise, violence emerges, resulting in uncontrollable actions, creating a brutal response. Third, very difficult to describe, but I will do my best, here it goes, limits have exceeded beyond recognition, logic is no longer liable, quickly disappearing, reasoning malfunctions, love is no longer there, hate has taken full control, picture this experience, the demonic manifestation.

Torturing - The body increases heavily in strenght, meanwhile pain flows throughout the blood stream, invincibility neurotransmitters take over, eyes dialect largely covering the entire layer, screams become very unfamiliar, roughly deep raging voices infuse, bloods exposed, numbness arose, receptors react, nothings inevitable its too late, shark bate, regenerate don't anticipate or hesitate, meditate composure and control the setting, pain is in motion.

Suffocating - Powerless embodiments, crucial destruction, ineffective signals, petrified terrified horrified symptoms, death is near if the hody turns weak, vulnerable absorption, manipulating cells propelled, evil casting spell, damaged speech impairment, strange feelings corrupt breathe intakes, prone to cardiovascular shutdown, heart attack, seizures, lose conscious, maybe faint, watching this occurrence is far much more traumatic, I'd say an experience unforgettable, marking scars forever, taken to my grave, remember Jesus saves...

we are all malfunctions waiting to happen so i don't know which is worse - bursting into flames or never sparking.

You gave me these feet to walk
This mouth to eat
To laugh, smile and talk
These feet I grind into the ground
Round and round in circles I go
Until my energy levels hit a new low
This mouth it smiles
Automatically, despite the turmoil within me.
Luckily for others.
You didn't give it transparency.

You gave me these teeth to chew, to eat
These hands you gave me
To meet and greet, demands
These teeth are rarely used
There's never much opportunity to bite and chew,
And these hands prove use in inflicting another bruise
On my body.

This brain you gave me to function and learn
This voice you gave me to express
Opinions and concern
This brain it is broken, it serves to destroy,
It malfunctions, a dismantled toy.
And this voice it turns on the right tone, until I am alone.

You gave me these legs,
To stand tall and strong.
You gave me these shoulders,
For others to rely on
These legs they are weak
They tremble and fall
And these shoulders offer no comfort at all

You gave me these organs to keep me alive
You gave me this heart to beat, to change lives
These organs I starve
And this heart it slows
As thoughts of self destruction
Circulate and echo

You gave me these eyes
To see the world and cry
You gave me life, to live not die
These eyes are faulty,
They prove me harm,
This life, I sabotage, as the ringing of alarms
Gets louder and louder.

You gave me these fingers to write not fight
You gave me these toes to explore new sights
These fingers they write scripts of pain, and ache after awhile
These toes they march on,
Perhaps it's denial.

You gave me common sense
In an attempt
For me to able to differentiate
Between right and wrong
But this tongue in my mind
Is so very unkind
And this common sense
Forms no self defence
As the walls they crumble down.

You gave me these emotions to think and Feel
You gave me these feelings to work on, to heal
These emotions they malfunction
In a world of self destruction
These feelings they soar
Like hungry lions they roar
Emotional regulation
Was a skill
You forgot to give
And it makes
all these things you gave me to live
Hard.
And again I am scarred.

1) : No Animal poems
2) : No Extreme poems
3) : No Old whatsoever poems
4) : No *** poems
5) : No ****** poems
6) : No Casandra complex poems
7) : No Celebs poems No wait thats OK!
8) : No ******* poems
9) : No Disambiguation poems.
10) :No go **** yourself poems
11): No **** me poems
12): No *** poems
13): No love poems
14): No hate poems
15): No nature poems
16): No political poems
17) No happy poems
18) No ****** poems
19) No poems about body functions
20) No funny poems
21) No honey poems
22) No poems about, AI malfunctions
23) No poems about no poems ;)
..................
*just refine
yourself
out of
*******
existence
poems

Break, break, break
'til your sanity seeps.

Burn, burn, burn,
'til your mind malfunctions.
Kick, kick, fight, ****.

**** the demon, the demons yourself.
Bully the brain
destroy the mirror,
fight 'til the end,

The end is fighting back.

Emotional train wreck.
That term best describes the mess of emotional nerves that is me.
One minute I am calm, flowing through life as graceful as a leaf gliding on an autumn breeze.
But in a sudden blink of the eye I become a train wreck.

I am careening off the tracks of my life.
The impending crash brings on the pessimism of my disease.
Anger, depression, and grief all these emotions fill me as the train comes to the break in the tracks.

And suddenly without any hint of salvation the brakes are pulled into action.
Calm fills me once again and I am at peace; happiness showing on my face, I am relieved for a moment that the ride is finally over.
I have a moment’s time to compose myself before the ride begins once more.
There are never any malfunctions on this ride.
I will always be stuck on this never ending train ride.

Tick tock, tick tock
When will my heart
Explode?

Drip drop, drip drop
When will my heart
Give up it's beat?

Dun dun, dun dun
When will I feel
Sane again?

My heart shuts down
When it malfunctions
My head pressures me
When I go through a meltdown

Existing is comparable to being
stuck inside of a movie theater,
watching the scenes of my life
projected on a screen that is
small enough to represent the
size that I feel.

On that screen would not be a
film that is vibrant in color and
filled with hues found in daylight,
a sight that would be considered
dazzling to the average person.

A black and white motion picture
always was better-suited to my personality,
painting a more honest image of both
the darkness that rests inside me
and of the specks of white light that
sporadically interrupt the infinite canvas of
charcoaled paint that
long ago dried on the
crumbling walls of my brain.

These layers of paint keep
thickening with age
and the heaviness stopped
feeling artistic quite some time ago.
It refuses to be washed away by
compliments, or what I perceive to be
sugar-laced lies told because
spreading goodness is man's civil duty.

But if I'm being honest to goodness,
believing that the slightest
trace of beauty lives within my organs
fills me from head to toe with fear because
the beauty people often see is
the kind that is tragic and
romanticized to new extremes in the
twisted culture that we call ours.

I do not wish to be art anymore.
My life is not a movie plot
waiting to be predicted,
and my mind is not a painting
meant to be criticized.

I want nothing more than to
be whatever creation I was
placed on this earth to be,
and I need at least one person to
accept the parts of me that were
accidental and poorly designed.
I need someone to love me
despite the malfunctions of my making.

-mp

By Joseph Childress

Humans For Sale
Our new product
Was produced
By the finest scientist
Rigorous research
Developed over ages
With pages upon pages
On the way's of Man
Which have made it
To this manual
Our manuscript
Comes with a planner
To document
The detailed descriptions
Of the
.Human Revolution.
They carry out
In your manner
For we've finally discovered
How to turn off it's soul!

Our standard package
Is for any industry
We've oiled all it's joints
For maximum mobility
Whenever their overworking
Strings stretch
From their shoulders
To allow shrugs
At your command
So it's hands
Can work for hours
While following your demands
I know you puppeteers
Take offense
To puppet's tears
Report any malfunctions
If the manufactured
Model shows emotion
And we'll threaten
Them with the fire
That they use to own

The titanium's knit tight
Taught enough
For the toughness of man
The silver hooks
Slide through slits
Of flesh
To make value
Of the empty vessel
The heart
Serves as battery
Connecting
Copper veins
To gain momentum
In it's electric brain

Our premium package
Allows wireless extensions
Of control...
Behold!
The new televised eyes
Provide hallucinations
In lucrative amounts
Which will prove
To be illustrious
In it's illustrated sight
The special effect
On it's vision
Is our last step
In
.Human Revision.

Puppeteers!!!
Our market
Is uncontrolled
The loopholes show
The puppets inability
To function
The component of soul
As owner
Be satisfied
Of the power
They don't know

i drum my steering wheel to the beat
of the ambiguous radio tune
imagine, far away that it could harmonize
alongside your heart beat on my chest
go over the possibilities of how you'd
mix my morning coffee
passing it to me slowly in sure hands
hands that clench my wasting heart,
blackened by an afternoon cigarette
squeeze from me my every miscalculated mistake
swirling through my stomach thick, heavy, smoke,
dampened by my past and future,
weighed in my hot regrets
to shelter you, i must swallow my smoke
push it down into my core
one look- halted by your unfamiliar eyes-
stomps my efforts out with a smudge left behind
graphed and charted before you,
i unwillingly place my autobiography
left in your sure hands
post-its and neon arrows outline where i went awry
as beacons on a clear purple night, you can't ignore
no reason left to pry my scribbled pages from your
loose grip i sit calmly before you,
awaiting your response as you skim
through my life's malfunctions
not much left to give you, but sparing what i've salvaged
your taste keeps me waiting longer than usual,
lingering ,perhaps with the hopes that
maybe you could comfort a sad girl if i stayed
my darkest of demons seem ordinarily
evanescent in your curious eyes

I've spoken of excitement and joy
I've talked of love and heartbreak
I've listened to words of wisdom
I've made a decision, for my own sake

It's been a long day
Of constant conversations
So it's the kind of afternoon
To sit with my malfunctions
And make it
Just peppermint tea
And me