zombieshark

twisted gears drive them onward,
cry, dismantle those bloody machines..
we will not require their use tonight.
if left to rust, they will only consume,
withering the steel within us all.
they seek that which burns.
they seek that which burns.
they seek out our still beating hearts.



unfortunately, we're not all robots.
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the boredom contained herein, meets and/or exceeds company standards for excellence, complying strictly with the "bored as fuck" quotient.
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later today i may run away,
and..
fall into a hallucinogenic state.
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why do people insist upon touching me?
keep your fucking hands off already!
is that so much to ask?