A reminiscence on thoughts of a machine by ReminiscenceHr, literature
Literature
A reminiscence on thoughts of a machine
Each breeze is redundant.
Yet it escapes me to conclude,
through subtle poetry of smog,
if there is more for my cold circuitry to process.
Set the controls for solitude,
the echoes of silence through aluminium pipes
awake a soothing pulse of voltage inside me.
