The fugitive looked
out at rain-slapped windows from
his mile high roost.
The polished buildings bathed in
chromatic advertising.
Blaring sirens crept
up the concrete towers, and
his synthetic ears
identified the danger.
Dark red pooled at his stomach.
Only lived six years,
but he still saw more than the
humans ever could.
He knew that he wasn’t so
different, so did Descartes.
He bled just like them,
and felt the same emotions,
but his flesh and bones
were engineered. His makers
and hunters wanted him gone.
He leapt from his perch
and retired just before
they came to force him.
By Jake Fields, Contributor
Jake Fields is a junior in Meraki publishing, but says writing is more of a hobby. Fields want to work in a biochemistry lab. “This poem was inspired by speculative fiction like “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” I was really interested in the line between objects and living beings, and I tried to explore that concept in the piece,” Fields says.
Featured Photo by Marc-Olivier Jodoin on Unsplash
