They are amused by the antics

of their new master.

The arrival of sure death

leaves them unchanged.

They want to be loved

by the sucking void.

Relieved of flesh

and consciousness at once.

Glad to have no target

and no end in sight.

Floating in the vast

disfigured brain.

Freed from love and pain

possessed by purest math.

The condom holding seeds

of some god's wrath

suspended overhead.

Pragmatic congregation of the dead.

Tall rows of plastic pines

sealed up in time

the technics in the slime.

Metallic babies.  Religious robots.

The votes of empty eggs

collected in the bin of sacred waste.

Description of an unremembered taste

deployed by lipless lips

the shape of boneless hips

assimilating rivers of decay

resigned to the collapse of night and day

subsuming all.