Sunday, July 17, 2011


I'd make the worst sentinel.
My mind appears magnetized
By its own information,
Bent, rusted, and corrupted,

Prattling, rattle-trap claptrap.
Mesmerized by my own junk,
Convinced each thing-a-ma-bob
Links to whatcha-ma-callit

And could make some fantasy
Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang fly,
I'd burrow in the debris
Between my ears and forget

To look up, scream "incoming!"
In time to save any lives.

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