Subject: The Tortured artist speaks (R2D2)
Date: Tue, 01 May 2001 19:58:24 GMT
From: "Jawa the Hutt" <jade300@my-deja.com>
Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.starwars.misc

Love From Afar

The ampered dream in a robot's mind
The wail of a sullen droids song
When silence falls upon the room,
The R2 rolls forward and the words
of that ghost in the machine beep clear:

If you step on my castor, my top
will not open to receive your trash.
Your human inequity is not mine
to receive.
But oh how I long for the cotton clad maiden
Who uses me to file her nails and polish
her shoes.

This is my prison.

The R2 longs for his heart chip
to taste the elegant freedom and fragility of
the organic vessel. He is fettered by
wracks of audio pulse.
He is not smitten for the blast door
control and when he delicately interfaces,
he thinks of another.

Hope has gone into hyperspace without a soul
R2 cannot cry and corrode.
He can only remember the words of his dear friend.

"Shut them down! Shut them all down!"

Jade
--
Weep for him.