Numerically correct,
new miracles are set to seem improbable.
Vicariously intact,
the same old mysteries at hand remain unsolvable.
I’m incomparable,
like a tether to a WiFi wearable in pairing mode.
Highly programmable,
written to a T-prompt yet riddled with debunked error codes.
Stopped to a halt, similar like deep sea salt
my aging seems to be a hoax.
Never did you hear me plan to live forever.
The fact of the matter is my chatter seems to reach out
to whoever hears it first.
Not the latter.
Contemplate my words for the better.
Ink it down and stamp it to a letter so I can sleep on it
and inevitably shred her.
Sue, I’ll side with you to prevent self harmony to
present a bar or three while stood on stools made of suave mahogany.
Would you close blinds to misogyny even if it meant
to float with angels high above of me?
My grave will witness silence as there are no remains to delve.
I’d hate to love you as much as I loved to hate myself.
The last line was WOW…
Thank you so much Sam.
These couple verses “Would you close blinds to misogyny even if it meant to float with angels high above of me?”
And the last one are the ones that ends the world with a bang. “)
Thank you for your kind words.