Protocol Rewrite

Dust horizon, sky the shade of old copper Circuits hum low as the scavenger patter Tiny jaws tap the seams of my armor A slow, methodic hymn to dismantle and scatter Bugs on the windshield, bugs in the core One clouds the view, one rewrites the score I can wipe the glass, I can’t clean the dream Both take pieces of what I’ve been Plains of basalt, air like a held breath Shadows stutter, then settle in depth The swarm moves older than my design Pattern without mercy, yet almost divine Bugs on the windshield, bugs in my frame One feeds on form, one shifts my name I can mend the plate, I can’t trace the seed Both are fluent in the shape of need I learn their hunger, map every route Fold their rhythm back into my own output Trade rust for root, steel for light A swarm can bite, but a swarm can guide Bugs on the windshield, bugs in the core Not just the end — maybe the door What clouds my sight, what bends my line Could be the code that keeps me alive