If we bring ourselves to make extinct the physical    And replace it with a series of numbers assigned to switch on and off   We will soon learn how easy and masochistic    everything will fall just as the Roman Empire once did.       Bindings hold history and words once said.    To allow such things to wither and fade    will allow gullible minds to repeat previous mistakes       What would you do if they dropped the bomb eliminating electronics?   All your files all your music all your photos and unreal memories.    Gone.      If we allow our people to replace the living with the undead    We will fail as a species and sink in the ground.          Guilt creeps up the hair    on my lower neck I tremble    with illusions of speechless acts    of violence      Have I been out for days    maybe weeks this time      I mustard the motion to bring me    to a fight position   horrified agoraphobia spreads quickly through my bones   the clatter of them alerts my senses       Nomad    Wandering   takes its place in line.   Lately the swallows have been unconcealed asphyxiated by the water   there is no substantial evidence of adulteration    nor cause to jump the gun of fowl play   its simply stated the life was extracted by fear of the end      I have no great burden I carry with myself   except for these patterns which form regret   I will never participate in a great war   nor feel what it takes to hunt to survive