Mechanic Rhythm

I’d like to write you something
On the internet,
Amongst the cables of my cranium,
The wires of my heart.
I try to compute,
But what does it matter?
If this is mechanic rhythm,
So be the world of magic hypocrisy;
I used to cherish the regular beating,
A meeting of that other
Who stunned me to stop-
What does it matter?
If I could craft for his closure,
I wouldn’t need to seek
Yours in the cracks of the system.
I’m wooden when I hate,
That’s just what I admire
About retaliation:
I have to find a better way
To fight than this archaic
Sense of duty to another.
So I scribble ‘onwards keyboard’
And hope to post that message
On some website that explains
What it means to cast away
All human flesh,
To replace the heart with
Reaction, innate, flashing.
Reception to the electrostatic
Beams that rocket across
An otherwise-split soul
Waiting, just waiting;
I ignore my own rules,
Dance in the dark for a while
Until I’m recovered enough
To start hating what was,
To here start remembering what will be.
Because computers can do that,
Break the scheme for a while.

The End

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