A thousand words a minute
Thoughts streaming in an instant
On or off
Not hot or cold.
A digital world with analogue dreams.
Ideas born from useless synapses.
Pulsing, pulsing, pulsing,
A torrent of unstoppable images
All but lost in an instant.
Actors without a play,
A play without a stage,
All left for randomness. Unpredictable.

Thick mechanical lids raised half-awake
Dreaming lucidly.
Eyes seeking out beauty,
Beauty in a digital world.
Contrast. Brightness. Tint. Color.
Found the beauty. It's all we need.
Beauty in noise.
Religion in the static.

Wishing for brightness so that the dark
Is good, wishing for analogue dreams.
Incoherent, incomprehensible, impossible
To understand.
Words without a story.
Desperately seeking one.
Find me.

When I understand it, I'll tell you more.


This poem really deserves some explanation. In retrospect, it's not very easy reading, and I apologize. However, it really does accomplish what I was planning. To clear things up first, the speaker in the first and third stanzas is an android, written in an almost stream of consciousness style of writing. The second stanza's speaker is me, the poet, describing the android. The speaker's identity is obfuscated intentionally, thus the "we." Besides the last few lines, the rest of the poem is meant to sound very "cold" and emotionless. Basically, the poem is about a robotic man's struggle to feel emotion. He tries everything he can to feel emotion, including pursuing art and religion (see stanza two). The only emotion that he can ever feel is a yearning for emotion.

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