(AUTHORZACHARY SCOTT HAMILTONINADRESS)
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
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