The *** with match, lit the fire
scolding kettle with burnt goaless ambition.
claiming snobbish golden prowess
paid in wanton , savage, screaming tuition.
"It is I" said ***
"Who has sent aromas of worlds
preperations in lifes gluttonous lust
smiling rewards genorously hailed
with slothed culanary trust..."
"tis true" whispered kettle
"It is I, the ***,
forged in iron clad
who in laborious toil
so generously cast my sweet savory scraps
amongst your soot and soil..."
"tis true" hissed kettle,
"For I, the ***,
adapt in multiple arrangement
of compliment and comfort where you lack
with singular solitary function
wailing, seared and scarred in black..."
"Tis true" whistled kettle
"I, the ***,
filled in glorious substance and magnificant sustenance
praised in lifes delicate, vital, victuals and viands
in with which I do enhance..."
"Tis true" howled kettle
"Yet it is I, Kettle,
in further fashion of design
than copious function in fare
do not heed your song and dance..."
"Blah" clammered ***
"For it is I, the lowly kettle,
sing to each melodious morning
to begin the days
unknown magical soaring..."
"Pishaw" growled ***
"It is I, kettle,
bestowed in somber, modest truth of fact
nakedly express that
you too, my dear ***
are simply black..."
"humbug" steamed ***
*** humbled... kettle mumbled...
"It is in each honorable day
we serve our distinguishable stay
in detectable unadorned identicle way.
"Tis true" said ***...

Since I already knew
I'd die of a broken heart
I made preperations
treating my death like art

Stop worrying
I took care of everything
the guests and the burying
even ordered flowers in early spring

Every so often they would come in
Turn the lights on and ask me questions
Then record my responses

Never showing emotion
They only asked and observed
Perhaps seaching for certain responses

The room had no windows
I could not truely tell
If it was day or night

My memories were blurred
And with each passing test
They only grew more clouded

The observers returned again
This time not asking
But telling

They told me things
Both mundane and strange
Supposed events and occurrences

Whether they were in the future
Or the distant past
I did not know

I listened to and answered
The faceless observers
For what seemed like days

The time came
When they seemed satisfied
With the knowledge I had gained

And they endeavoured
To show me one final thing
By wheeling out a simple mirror

They faced it towards me
And what I saw looking back
Shocked me to my core

In the dim relection
I saw a strange machine
With churning part and glowing orbs

This machine was me
Though I knew not how
For it was not a form I recalled

One of the larger observers explained
I was the last intelligence
Of a long extinct race

In fact they told me
I was the last individual intelligence
In the universe

For they were all part
Of a greater hive mind
That had absorbed all creation

They planned to bring me
Before that grand being itself
Once preperations were made

Silently and without emotion
They left the room
And turned the lights off again

I was alone again

I, the sole survivor
Brought back from the oblivion
Of an antiquated age

To face the god of this one

Why im cheaper then a working girl
Asking no reward for occupation and services rendered
At least they have standards
Having monetary value

I think about you obsessively
You even become part of my fairy dreams
An easy escape from my reality
An unhealthy attachment has grown
Canserous growth
Mutated from normal affection
My internal compass broke
Faulty parts
No one realised
Engin running on fumes
A complete emotional brake
You created sudden seperation
No warning
No preperations
No help
You caused my brake

Im so tired
Im exhausted
I want to crawl inside
Say my goodbyes
Say welcome to my new life inside me
This is all from being cheap and easy