dr. pepper

not a cola or a root beer;

something in between

like a tortured machine—

it will power down soon.

that tang on your tongue

is from my chewed up wires,

lightning should show through smoke

but i'm still lost in fires.

pick me from a cherry tree—

no, wait, i'm just no good,

my pit is rotting wood

from a house with locked doors.

you say i'm vanilla, deep down,

like i have some strange savior complex;

my off button is just broken

and you can't determine my sex.

so i don't know what'll happen

when my computer goes dead

maybe human thoughts will stop

racing, like fizzing bubbles, in my head.