artificial flesh bucket
skeleton of deception
gift wrapped in cellophane
android with faulty wiring
sparks shoot out when you scratch your head
ain’t got working internal organs
just sacks of out of date components
jammed haphazardly into your chest cavity
leaking & sloshing about with every movement
spilling out with every cough & sneeze
shove em back in before it’s noticed
creaking joints in need of oil
When was your last upgrade?
How can you not know?
How is that possible?
People speak languages they do not fully comprehend, uttering incantations loaded with power they consistently underestimate due to their own ignorance.
The Weeping Willow Tree is on fire and all attention is zeroed in on a lone branch that fell off of it.
The latest software update is already obsolete by at least 5 decades of technological advancement.
The cancer has destroyed most of the body and tears are shed for a fresh papercut.
A boulder tumbles down from the peak, smashing trees and forest creatures into the dirt, and the mountain does not notice.
The ones on top of the marble pillar urinate on our heads as we refurbish the base.
The call has dropped minutes ago yet I’m still chattering away, hoping to be heard through the hole in thin air.