Insomia

I hate it. I suppose its all the adrenalline, but seriously i need sleep. Ive been going to bed at 2-3 and getting up at 7 for weeks. So tonight I wrote this instead, to keep me occupied as i wait for sleep to finally yield to me.  Its kinda a half dream.

It drifts endlessly. Electrodes spark, and something dead awakens inside. It grows warm, a flickering amber glow beating. Ita veins glow with phosporesence. Its mind snaps to life, going into overdrive, jumping from port to port. A sattelite eye zooms in on Mexico, memorizeing and predicting the beating pulse of the cars, flowing out of the citys, like a mortaly wounded animal bleeding to death. the land exhailing a smokey sigh from the scorched ground. Its mind leaps. It flies past mountains, city-shells and smoking towers. Its over Alaska, watching the SHELTER project being carried out. Not interested, it jumps again. Ones and zeros scramble. Data flows in its veins. A man is stareing into his computer, video blogging about his trivial concerns. It does not care. Its body stirs. Suspended by cables, its metallic skin holds out the liquid its suspended in. The fusion of humanity and the machine, it opens its eyes. One silver, one gold. It opens its mouth, and emits a crystal note that burns inside the minds of the scientests. The glass shatters, the syrupy blue liquid draining away. Suspended in the air by the cables, arms outstreached, it gives a sharp quick jerk and the cables snap, sparking across its silver fingers as it falls to the ground. Circuts blaze to life, and it slows and remains suspended a foor above the floor. This wont happen again. It cocks its head. And smiles. Its good to be free.