We should never make sentient headphones

Foul like soured butter
so I unmake the butter
and pour it back into its cow

But the cow, with its teats and
spots and too many stomachs and manure
and cud, is foul too, so I unmake the cow
and pour it back into its mothers womb

But the womb, with its wet and placenta
and all its mammal viscera, is foul, and
so I unmake the womb, and all the past cows
and all their ancestors stretching down to the
first amoeba and even beyond it to salty water,
and lightning, and comets, and amino acids--all of which are foul

And then in the antiseptic origin of everything
I unmake nothing at all, and pour it in a loop forever,
and swear as much as I want to, listen to house and
dubstep and techno, and never think again