a cold utopia
where zeros and ones
run in perfect lines like obedient soldiers
& we find ourselves
marveling at the wonders of
soulless artists
& wondering if we ever
really mattered
in all our imperfections
we try to speak in the tongues
of machines
but we are not machines
we are weeping monsters
we are flesh & blood timebombs
& we are not to be outdone
by an army
made of zeroes and ones.