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Rated: E · Poetry · Technology · #1630663
Where's my jetpack? You owe me a flying car! (The future is here.)
Sometimes I can't see clearly
after bright and sleepless nights;
my eyes are lit fluorescent red
from staring at these lights.

I have explosion power
and the echo sounds on high;
this internal combustion
is what's darkening my sky.

My radiation sings to me,
invisible but there;
it bounces off of satellites,
I breathe it in like air.

There is lightning at my fingertips,
in a button, knob, or switch.
I see the world in my machine;
I can't tell which is which.

Call me a mad scientist,
then call to ask me why.
Before the sun can swallow us,
I'll send you my reply.

Radiation talks to me,
and lightning sets my course;
Explosions move me forward,
but every day is worse.

Alternate Ending:
I am explosion powered;
radiation sings all night.
With lightning at my finger tips,
I think I'll be all right.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1630663-Radiation-Sings-To-Me