there are droids after me,
i see them when i look over my shoulder,
they are coming for me,
i know it,
i am sure of it,
but as to what their intentions and meaning are,
that,
i could not answer
cut into pieces and fed to a melody
that doesn’t sound so pleasant going down
as it did coming up,
but such is the rhapsody of being fed
to cannibalistic music
wrapped up in its own twisted chords
my foot fell asleep,
so i went to go catch it before rem set in,
but found it to be too numb to move
or feel
or acknowledge me in any shape or form,
so i let it have its beauty rest,
though it was hardly deserved
Fred Aiken Writing 