Ones and Zeros

Ones and Zeros
A poem

In earnest it’s said, “How fortuitous to be a cyborg.”
Fleshy bits connecting to a webbed hive mind—
Enhancements keeping ‘em from the morgue—
A transhumanist identity ready to be assigned—

Translating one’s, zero’s, and memories as matter—
Reality an adaptable figment subject to desire—
A metallic sheen dazzling with rapid blatter—
Backlit emojis imaging excitement with fire—

Contemplation calculating with expert consensus—
Sterilizing apologies with patterned aphorisms—
Razing struggles with a hand-held Hephaestus—
Distracting each of us with meaningless nihilisms.

It all seems ironic; we’ve enslaved ourselves to this—
A mechanical jinn granted our foolish wish.

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