look i'm capitualting to your
will imposed on me as a rock left
between the door and its jam
the solid outline its shadow makes
as i slide my Doc Martins through
the grit your powdery dead wood
has left on my entryway

i can see the molded blue
light and hear the fuzz of
kilowat hours ticking off the
gigahertz
plunging my hand into mounds
of circuit boards made obsolete
by genius

rough solder points raise
puffy white histamine born
welts along the back of my hands
and for an instant
i am the machine

spitting the last vestige of my sanity like punched tape
onto my hardwood floor
coils lying like ghost white
entrails in a ratty pile

GIGO
how clever of your slender fingers
tapping out my rythem for
the cheap thrills of your peers