• androogee (they/she)@midwest.social
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    10 months ago

    To whom it may concern (the progenitor of my very existence):

    The clockwork temporal measurement device strapped 'pon the writhing fleshy tentacle protruding from mine own thorax remains sullen and unchanging despite my best efforts at provocation.

    Please advise.

    • drolex@sopuli.xyz
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      10 months ago

      O dear original source of half of my genetic material, including the differentiating heterotypical chromosome!

      Despite my many attempts at interacting through my somatosensory system with what looked like a haptic receptor of a timekeeping mechanism attached to my sinestro-anterior limb, the visual indicator of the aforementioned radiocarpal joint-mounted machine keeping track of the flow of hours, minutes and seconds (important: please note only the latter is a SI unit) remains devoid of any hint of a reactive process consequential to my stimulus.

      What the fuck.

      • breakcore
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        10 months ago
        Brought forth, my mind, my spirit, conscience and flesh and all
        Into this universe, by merit of affections made by thee
        As forebearer, Zeus as to Hephaestus, as you to me
        Echoing ancestral age's call
        
        From infant times, whenst could I not procure my own
        Through learning and advancing in my worth
        You held me high, and pushed me forth
        By song affirmative in words and tone
        
        This trust of merits, my esteem, oft besong by you
        Make these words, this moment, this request
        Become the heaviest of my behest
        Albeit an inquire I can not undo
        
        Upon my arm, as equator round our very earth
        Is bound with leather strap, and nimble lock
        A dream of time, of days, of tick and tock
        Of life, it's passage, to the grave from birth
        
        A timepiece, chroniker, a metronome, a watch
        In and of itself a wondrous thing
        And as I watch it circumnavigate it's ring
        I have but a single question, single catch
        
        When on it's surface, with extended digits laid
        With tap, with stroke, with haste, with patience and between
        Expected outcome of my action, none are seen
        And of my merits, now am I afraid
        
        I humbly ask of you, my genesis, my kin
        Am I the one who know not how to utilize
        This measurer of time, this timeless prize
        Am I unknown to functions laid within
        
        No prodding, poking, touch or stroke
        Have rendered changes visually
        And therefore I conclude I now can see
        The functions I can not provoke
        
        I utter loudly "what the fuck"
        Have you equipped it with parental lock?