A pebbly, electric dissonance
glitches across your face.
I race around the room to find
your power supply but cannot.
You’re wrought from copper wire angels
and strings of hex lyrics.
Still, it’s your current spirit that continues
this form of wave interference.
Appearance always structured pix-elated;
we’ve lost much sleep debugging this code
Though the load was shown to operate without fail
under recommended and expected parameters.
Damages seem to most often occur
when the system(s) take on additional stress.
Therefore we suggest pulling the host(s) off-line
and confirming physical connections.
Projections for continued functionality
are bare, obtuse, and rather grim.
Slim chances for productivity
without a full forensic analysis.
It now, however, appears that all flows end in paralysis.
Decisions colored in paralysis.
Jason Preu 
This poem is brilliant! and stunning metaphors.
“Therefore we suggest pulling the host(s) off-line
and confirming physical connections.”
The lines you wrote here is a message of humans being unplugged by off-line machines.
Therefore – having interactions in close connection with human face to face contact.
Excellent written poem my friend. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
and will that be what fixes anything? are things even broken? certainly sometimes feels that way but i’m often not so sure…
LikeLiked by 1 person
I hear you brother. I feel the same way sometimes about how humans are fascinated by the uses of technology.
LikeLiked by 1 person
And how we ourselves are wet tech.
LikeLike
At a loss for words.Good ink.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you big big.
LikeLiked by 1 person