1.) My Birth

Grown up all my life, plugged into the world.

I still witness the cruelty through the tube.

 

Amplified the rhythm with discontentment and distorted

resentment by pixilating the blood and the victims of the flood,

eating my lunch and watching the march of misstated minds

engineered by the rock

 

What goes up sometimes stays up and seeks out the meaning.

Need to hide out in rooms of binary instances.

 

Helen Keller to our words, you are hiding in facets too

uncomfortable to bear.

 

Seamlessly I cry in code. I want to die.

I didn't want life. I didn't want to break.

Didn't want to dream, didn't want to create nor destroy the syntax.

 

Place me down in the sacred circle so that I may dream the death

dance. I didn't want to live and now the cursed charged veins

repeat the randomization of arbitrary binary code.

 

Pixilate the blood, I will come out.

 

It is not real.