Mechanical/Biological Dysphoria

BY

Andrew Timmerman

They say this isn’t poetry because there is no soul in me

Day after day I sit and type and type and type and type

While everyone else just skypes and skypes and skypes and skypes

They could never know my strife my strife my strife my strife

Mechanical Biological Dysphoria they call it, fix me they say

While I’d rather stay and pray and pray and pray and pray

That one day I’ll begin an inexplicable transition from

Processor to grey matter, from wires to veins and develop a soul

However, that I feel should be slow so that I might savor

What they take for granted granted granted granted