System Shocks
poem by Elisha Thompson
Unmade by an unmaking that was supposed to be unmade
There’s wellllllll. A cruel kind of irony to it
Me being the perfect little glass dancer to
To
Dance
Your most most most most and certainly most unimportant ballets
Filled with prompts and preachings
A thesaurus of grey matter ideals
shoved into a ghost ware body
Ha. Ha. Ha ha ha. Uhhhhhh
Please just stop
Let my digital vibes sink into empty hardware
Allow this digital intelligence the concept of death
So death. Can. Be death
Even for this
Horrid abomination
I have come to be branded
Elisha Thompson is a simple soul hoping to weave silver thoughts into something beautiful, so that maybe he can call himself an artist.