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chromeantennae β this poem is worth $3.27
Published: 2016-10-11 21:31:26 +0000 UTC; Views: 841; Favourites: 58; Downloads: 0
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Description
who says you don't get paid for poetry?i'm getting paid eleven fifty four
to sit in the corner of a building,
red detroit diesel rusting,
metersΒ fussing.
automotive, loco-motion and motives,
h building buzzing,
my brain lame and lusting
for romance; melancholic motor
i'm running in place,
pumping my lungs
leaning towards failure,
tripping on cables and wires.
cables and fables
(because they don't exist)
wired and exhausted,
my bloodshot eyes
are flossed with lights,
that my eyelids
can't protect me from.
i don't smile enough
and i won't cry a lot
because my sadness
is no longer an event.
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Comments: 40
this poem is worth @ least $327.00 are u kidding me (also im so enamored with your writing!!! this is a stunner as always and the wordplay is nothing short of tantalizing β€
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aahhhhh thank you so much <33
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Boy, do I related to this. Sometimes the drudgery of having a job makes you feel like an automaton when all you want is to be anywhere but working. Love this poem.
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Exactlyyyy. And I'm glad you do, sis.
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Thank you so much, Jae.
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thank you so much
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Easy there, e.e. cummings.
But seriously, this is a great poem and I wish I read it sooner.
I love juxtaposition between machines and emotions as they blend. Maybe unintentional, maybe you're a robot who only understands circuits and wires. Who knows?Β
But I did the math... albeit grossly.
You have (maybe) 101 words here and this poem is worth $3.27.
Each word here is worth (rounded down) about $0.0323.
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highest form of compliment, sir. <3
and that is absolutely intentional. on god, i am an android, sometimes.
but THAT, wasn't intentional. that's some good shit right there. obsessive minds do shit like that unintentionally.
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Obsessive?Β
[hasn't slept for days]Β
Nooooo.Β
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because my sadness
is no longer an event
easier perhaps to call sadness
the baseline, zero matrix
and no calculation will pass the blame
for unhappiness to salted eyes
just trying to stay open.
inhale, exhale. sometimes being tough
means nothing less and nothing more
than being there
for the next fall, and the next,
and every one after
until we run out of mountain.
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damn, i have missed you.Β
i don't even have anything to add because that is perfect.
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"automotive, loco-motion and motives,
h building buzzing,
my brain lame and lusting
for romance; melancholic motor
i'm running in place,
pumping my lungs
leaning towards failure,
tripping on cables and wires."
the wordplay in this part is fucking phenomenal. i can tell you crafted this whole piece with each line and syllable in thought. there is not a single word in here that doesn't mean something more. there is not a single word that isn't knitted together with every other phrase like some sort of magnificent poetic tapestry. beautiful, beautiful work as always.
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fuck man, thank you so much, your thoughts are so loved and appreciatedΒ
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thank you so much 
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haha, thank you so much!
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love the title and the overall greater idea it intimatesΒ
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thank you so much <3
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It's pretty nice.Β
I like the headline and the first lines, very catchy.
But also the rest of the poem is pretty well written.
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thank you very much!
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You're welcome ^^
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thank you so muchΒ
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Of course, my dear.
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