i want to be made of metal
and electricity
i wouldn’t mind the rust so much
if i knew it were coming
if i could clean and polish
the rivets and oil the joints
but unlike the woodsman
i can do without the heart
with it’s complicated gears
incessant ticking
always needing a gentle hand
to turn the key to keep it beating
even better, a data bank
–please, god, not the cloud–
would be a fine sanctuary
to store my mind
to let my consciousness expand
i promise i won’t
launch any nuclear anything
or ever go rogue
i won’t even bother you
asking for a game of chess
——
Words and Feathers 
Love the idea and the imagery
A heart can be a pain in the ass! Outstanding poetry — do not ever forego that brilliant brain of yours.
When I download it, it can get even better!
good one (K)
Thanks, K!
love the use of em dashes in this piece!
Thanks!
Thanks so much!
Data banks are factory-farmed brain-cells chained to the consciousness of the master. No individuality. No creativity. No fun. It wouldn’t suit you.
I suppose you’re right. Maybe if there’s some way to plug it into a sausage or a pudding or something like that. Give it some kind of fleshy appendage.