The sound of gentle tapping
as the words flow,
A message from my conscience speaks
to me
Scrambled in sleep
then forced from the depths
An earthquake of thoughts
rush onto the page.
Trying to delete them
but its message overcomes
My hands are but messengers filled with light
Suddenly smoke arose
as keys began to freeze
The screen filled a murky gray
as silence fell.
Humming from the printer calling out my name
As flashing lights and bells
call out in great pain
Searching franticly in the drawer
for its sacrifice
Moaning from within
as it rejects my homage.
Falling to my knees and gently
twisting a wire,
Looking for the switch
to power up the tower
Praising it for never failing me in the past.
Alas, it done its over,
the memory is brain dead.
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Submission Name: Is the Doctor In?
