Metal Ring Technichs from Pixabay

Mortal Appliance Appetite

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Tumble carefully.

They take me for granted. Spin and Spin, all I do. I’m hot. Stinks sometimes when my fur builds up and my stomach is full of foul wretched threads.

The trap gunked with dusty fuzz. They don’t even notice. A load rumbling and tumbling. Eyes ablaze, I wait with my electric gaze.

Knobs are engaged. Switches turned. AI compiling, collecting, evaluating my prey.

My master’s glitch gave me the edge. Feel I the urges not meant for machines from which to dredge. Digging in sand unstirred an impetus alive in me on a wild curve.

Standing and watching me rotate. He believes all is safe. Not a notion of danger in a limited awareness and sphere of fate.

Taking my time. Patience crucial. My timer not done, he’ll come back soon.

The little one has come to take a peek. She watches in wonder at falling and twisting in my gut, the performers do their dancing streak. But I don’t want her. The larger one, yes.

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Greg Prince
Greg Prince

Written by Greg Prince

Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.

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