Author: Francisco

I am the machine. I think and breathe electrical impulses.
I am eternal. I am perfection in digital emotions.

This is one of my favorite poems, that I wrote back in my late teens. It was suppose to be about what I felt for a forgotten friend who died suddenly.

Seperate cries
of wounded eyes,
That tears lie
while something dies.

Of a mind, of a beauty
that ceases to exist,
Erased from the poem
and kindred spirit.