The Crimson Calibration of Tenderness
I lie suspended in this woven web, a sacrificial offering to the
Voodoo Tech
The Neon Pulse of a Digital Heartbeat
The concrete jungle is my altar, a grey wasteland where the air
The Neon Pulse of a Digital Heartbeat
I am but a biological circuit, draped in floral fabric that feels
The Silicon Pulse of a Dying Sun
I stand on the steel ribcage of this city, my white dress
The Silicon Pulse of a Warm Embrace
I step through the sliding door, my skin still humming with the
The Silicone Pulse of a Dying Sun
I sit upon this white linen altar, my skin humming with the
The Neon Pulse of a Silk Heartbeat
I stand at the edge of this steel canyon, my skin humming
The Kinetic Pulse of a Digital Heartbeat
My body is a temple of copper wiring and raw bone, vibrating
The Neon Altar of a Digital Heartbeat
I press my palms against the cold, ivory skin of this machine—
The Neon Pulse of a Digital Heartbeat
My laughter is a ritual chant, amplified by the hum of thousand-volt
The Silicon Heartbeat at Asakusa
I stand beneath the white lanterns, but my blood is not merely
The Amber Pulse in a Silicon Shell
I sit upon this woven mat—a primitive circuit board of straw
