(Psycho)somatic Bot

Where does your mind go

when you sleep?  

Does it settle for less-than

spectacular dreams or does

it wander through the colors

of the universe and touch the 

eyelids of God Himself?

Where does your heart fade

when your body becomes strangely

enveloped in a catastrophic fire

with your bones icing into steel and 

your veins into shorted-out circuits? 

When your mistakes become 

too great, too heavy for your own

countenance to bear even for the 

slightest of ticks on the time,

will you let them remove it?

Yes, remove it.  

That thing that resonates a life

inside the lining of your soul,

now hardening over with

crusted, rusted metal.  

Replace it with a monitor 

and replace it with

computer code. 

When your all out of age

and your memory starts to

fade, splintering into tiny

little pieces that remind you of

your father's ashes, 

will you let them switch 

it off?

Yes, switch it off. 

You gave your heart away

years ago to a small girl

that laughed too loud

and cried too quiet,

so why not, when that

is gone already?  

But what choice will you make?

Oh, you want my advice?

Do not let them take

the thoughts that rattle

inside of your head.

The act of remembrance, 

the recollection of your 

collateral mistakes are the only

anchor in gravity, making

you the knotted balloon string 

tied to a mailbox.

The one with no 

complete wish of wanting 

to be blown away.