In the morning I awake,

a machine.

The first stimuli of  the day

flow into my head

Like light into a dark, void chamber.


The gears that reside in and operate my brain

begin turning, turning, turning.

I grease them with eggs and toast

as they begin warming up,

and continue spinning, spinning, spinning.


The whirs of my thoughts become fully perceptible

I can remember where I left off yesterday.

Video receptors connected to the occipital lobe of the machine

look for any last-second homework as two hands rummage through

A wonderland of papers and folders.


After a moment, the gears generate their first answer.

The pencil meets the paper

It's the Wilmot Proviso, of course!

Responses spit out sporadically.

The gears operate at full speed,

Turning, turning, turning,

And the machine is ready for another day.


Created by Ricky Heath as an entry for the Speak your Mind Slam


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741