Broken Robots | Statisfaction

I am here to defend my right to be a human.
How come somebody dares to treat me like I'm just a number?
I refuse to organize my life
along the lines of gridded tracks.
My mind keeps bouncing up and down —
so tight — can't breathe — it's all around.
Such algorithms, not for humankind,
remind me of a tongue from mechatronic realm.
No way its static, code-like nature
is here to accommodate my helpless state.
Even my weirdly wired brain can sense
it isn't backed by any smart equation.
A pile of nonsense might very likely
be the only source of its foundation.
The way you articulate my case
is technically fabulous — in legal terms, indeed.
It is constructed around ideas
for rigid-wired minds to run those rails:
Rule 1 plus Regulation 5,
divided by three articles alike,
and multiplied by the root of missed deadlines.
An outcome of this hyperparabolic function:
your statisfaction that I’m wrong in every aspect.
To understand such rigid language,
should I, could I, must I rely
on expertise from mechatronic goddess —
the mighty Queen of Shitty Robots?
Perhaps she is the only person
to understand such tonguemalfunction.
While in a moment of great weakness,
I need to spark some human love
inside processors of likely broken robots.

(images)

Ny Ålesund|Svalbad (2016)

Millenium Park | Chicago (2017)