I am an infidel
No longer a slave to poetry,
Too feeble to lick my blood and rise like awaken stardust.
You are an infidel, robots will replace you,
I will love it, I will make more robots and make an army
Then make some wars
End them with a charity event. Do wear a sustainable gown, please,
My husband will give me a diamond that is virtual and cannot be stolen or lost.
I am lost,
I am not even married yet. My mother is lost and my father is
Just about the average Indian aged man.
I have read enough to know
My utterance need not make sense
Lived enough to know
It must make sense to some
Somehow,
Imagined or real
Barthes killed the author last century
The reader is disgusting and alive.
We are all infidels
Because we are confused,
To celebrate this I shall eat fast food and block my starblood
And you can all go to hell.