Isle number one

Silver panel case forty five grooves

Blue emblem fifty grooves a side

Black shell, aluminum alloy

Brain case in thin light warped

And white tiles lined my body.

The underworld of sub-articles and this

Automatic Haunted hand stringing code

with crocheting needles.

A slow stress cuts grooves while loading files

And going through a passage of illiterate frequencies

and wires.

I am nothing but a built in man,


Out of iron cobras, latching onto your suit jacket with clarion and

into the ear of a poor man sticking his head

In the jungle, into the blasting beats of the jungle, rhythmically shaking

Off his life.

The process is sickening and hue of clear venom, teeth, latching

Thick skin makes me glow worm blue, makes me remember my

Chrysalis, anchoring itself into a substrate, and moulting.

I think in the way computers think,

Stringing code, weaving patterns in a quick manner.

Going from place to place quickly

Lots of pressure

Everything broken down into sections,

Links here and there

attaching thoughts to colors.

Manipulate data according to a set of instructions

Record human history

I have the ability to store and record lists of instructions

Called programs

Given enough time I will be able to store thousands of bits of information.