I woke bathed in
Half written sentences,
A litany of unspoken truths
And joy.

There simply isn't time to grieve
The ghost in the machine,
Those bottlenecked specters
Of miscoded 1s and 0s
That leave no room to solve for “x” -
A future stifled by reason.

(I wanted to give you
The rest of my days.
I wanted to love you
Without condition.)

And so it goes
That a morning full of
Undercooked tomorrows
Will need to be repurposed
As fodder for an alternate timeline,

Those days soaked in hope.

01/29/2015

Posted on 01/29/2015
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie