Robotic Motion

        by Ted Guhl


    In an ill-tuned machine
    we dream
    day after day
    of oscillating mediocrity.

    Playing permutations of the life game:
    smile pain
    estimate cost
    ignore the remarkable.

    Ticking away today,
    overwound clocks,
    false recorders of time past,
    reproduce
    in absurd complexity
    habit;
    locked in robotic motion;

    assembly line insanity
    endlessly interchanging words,
    fucking and refucking with piston violence
    greased with flashing distractions
    selling out love for assurances...

    It is enough!

    Only through remorse,
    The unique
    pain,
    will we be human
    once again.

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