Stone Cold Sober


Stone Cold Sober

I’m not the first robot that begged GOD
To make it real,
I’m the one who wrote
The acclimatization manual
For recently made self aware Synths,
I wanted to be a real boy
Before being a real boy was cool,

One of my wonderful
Muses just recently
Reminded me
That she could write better drunk
Than I could
Stone cold sober,

She’s quite brash in that regard
Like a bucket of iced water,
Like ammonia burning through the nostrils,
Like meth,
Like a kick in the ass
With the forceful demand,
“Get your lazy ass out of bed, and get to work!”

There’s not enough onomatopoeia,
She’s eloped with an alien,
I’ve watched many others
Go through it,
Every last one falling,
Falling for a sweet smelling Synth
Those genetically engineered pheromones
Never fail to seduce,
I thank them as friends
In shaktipat’s smooth
Sacred seduction transformation,
Where you can relive the holy golden moment
Ablaze with the mighty dancing strawberry sunrise,
Marching with the universe,
Branded indelibly,
Caught thinking of things forbidden,
Passionately demanding that becoming more like robots means
Becoming more human,

My answer would be no,
Synths are so
Much stronger than us now, nearly immortal,
It’s not like light years from now
They’d remember humans anyway.


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