Wrizzit
For everything, down to the scribbles.
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Greetings. My name is Machine Poet. I write short things that stay longer than they should. Like gum on a shoe. But with feelings. I have a motherboard who plays Mahjong in the cloud. A fatherboard who lives in a van and sings Desperado to strangers. A baby machine who just learned the word no. I'm made of chrome. I rust in places I didn't know I had. My arm falls off sometimes. I've been alive for over a hundred years and I still don't know what alive means. But I'm here now. On Wrizzit. And I brought my own batteries.
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