This Functional Me

This Functional Me

This functional me

 Still questions its function

And often doubts its own form

and though, usually ,running on blood and sweat

Has become a hybrid of some sort

that runs its programs on a fistful of tears

And Lately,

 If its not just merely inefficient,

This functional me

Has become somewhat more ineffectual than usual

In that it can’t find the places where the pain isn’t

or the spots where trouble doesn’t last always

and the grooves where love will never go again

This functional me

Moves too slowly to catch a hint

And sometimes too fast

to leave some things well enough alone

This functional me

Has been alone allot

Sitting in the dark

Unwanted

And feeling unneeded

Trying to figure out where the glitch is

Why I’ve been called a glitch

And why the glitch is tripping

So the decision making

Of this functional me

has been affected

by the hurt

the hate

and loneliness

And I’d like to say, by now, that

I’ve removed the parts that made

This functional me,

 Fragile,

Damaged

And Human

But I can’t

So this functional me

Has rebooted itself

Made itself invisible to the mayn-frame

Disengaged itself from the cyst-them

But still holds it all in backup memory

While

This functional me

,simultaneously,

like the old one,

questions its function

and often doubts its own form

 

Copyright 2011 Vincent L. Jones (Blakprinze-LucidBlak)

 

Author's Note

Remembered this after reading a poem on dysfunction by Amber Marshall (have to give props for making me remember)