His eyes remind me of a summers day

Cliche, I know, but his lips numb my brain

They’re red like strawberries,

The ones we used to pick

Before you moved to the city

And found some new chick

Now you work like a machine

Suit is stiff, your armour’s clean

New York pumps out faceless bots

Your CPU can run non-stop

Your battery’s at peak electromotive force

Your dreams are saved up in a cloud source

I pick our strawberries all alone

Some for me and some for home

I’ll taste those lips just one last time

Your ROM knows deep down that you’re mine

I choke and puke up strawberry juice

I think my program’s got a bug

I think my server crashed because

There are too many signals of you

Please keep your automated games

And semi-autocratic ways

Our berry bush is all dried up

I hope your robotic life don’t suck

Because I can’t stop dreamimg

Of strawberry lips

And I can’t stop envisioning

Your skewed bits

Do you remember

My strawberry lips?

Or have you forgotten

That I exist?

I suppose not

For on my table sits

A letter adressed

To our childhood friendship

And the first line says,

“You are invited to this burial day”