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

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