Weekly Sonnet 14

Ex Tedium Robotica Est

Autoerraticasphyxiation
doth plague this film, but you know that’s a non-
word which is just like Bourne’s non-intrigue, what
is indistinguishable from his false-
intrigue. Worse indeed: its cinemation
quakes as if I were K-hole emergent.

My cerebellum has achingly gone
away; thy tightening zooms do make plent-
y aggravations myopia-wise.

Inattr(action) yeilds to the “story” sput-
ters, wishing full-body-dry-heave were waltz,
or maybe I’m still putting back my eyes.
If I want to see backs of heads preten-
tiously, I would queue up for Space Mountain.