The truth,
The lies,
The pleasure,
And love,
All things that when told,
Still have a time when it hurts...

You come at the best of times,
And the hardest part is when I cannot cry,
You leave me here to lie between,
Beddings and sheets,
And as much as one cares to weep,
You instill this repercussion of my sanity,
Leaving a shut down,
Like when a computer... shuts down,
However it's crazy right?
How the shut down leads to a standby,
But when you're dealing with two parts,
It is not the machine no,
But merely the display,
As it, replays a signal,
That there is no signal,
There is nothing feeding the monitor,
There is no rest for the screen,
Always on,
Slowly.... dying,

As soon as it activates,
It is consuming,
Consuming the complex knowledge,
Energy,
And memory,
Of what is,
Was,
or will be,
And what became,
To create the distinction and difference between man and machine,
Is the stand,
And the costume,

As I stand here,
Staring at what is merely the imaginative reality,
The one I've always talked,
Dreamed,
Discussed...
What is the truth,
The lie,
When I love,
Hate the feeling,
I told myself,

When you are on the other side...
Does it still hurt?

Remember black winds of November nights,
rattle your bones, chill your marrow,
quiver time's arrow and rip the world's white
veil from a skeletal face. Throw
it. Watch it fold, caught on the cathedral,
high church of the ossified faithful,
whose whispered prayers will calcify us all.
Unveiled, the world is bones without a soul,
rattling as it grinds, creaking as it turns.
A flag flies / Calcium collects in urns.

Out of adolescence
turned into metal men
We sit if front of computers
Run programs
Run for promotions
Run from what made us human
The smiles of yesterday have no place on a machine
Cold steel cold heart cold being
The sun never shines inside
Whether that be the office or your mind
We are not what we were
We are not what we were wanted us to be
We are robots surrounded by robots
In a metal city so unforgiving

Within my mind are heavy thoughts,
They do not let me feel at ease.
Everything i'd failed to do
Is coming back to haunt me.

Body withered and my mind
Is trapped awaiting for relief -
Heavy duty machines above
Will serve as bridge to a new life for me.

Heavy brain is in the skull,
Drinking blood that flows in veins,
The blood is pumped by a heavy heart -
A heavy heart is all that's left of me.

LONG WAITED ΣXTRACTION OF BRAIN IS COMMENCING,
Heavy heart has been put to rest.
As narcotics put me to sleep i imagine
What future holds for me.

What was it that made me who i had thought i was?
Which parts of self will be put to rest?
After-****** life may just show me the secrets of who I am.
Is life within a machine equivalent to death?

Vivid images i had not seen
Yet imagined like they're real -
The brain is fed through metal tubes
With tar-like liquid that flows within,
The brain is speared by electric spikes -
They cut their way through every part of it.

THE DREAM STATE DISRUPTED BY A HEAVY DESTRUCTIVE SHOCK,
What are these sings i'm receiving? I can't make sense at all.
The feeling of dread is suppressed by machinery, i don't even feel any pain.
Yet heavy thoughts haven't gone away.
More than ever before i am wondering if a choice i had made was correct -
Eternal existence without a future or hopes and no right to be welcomed by death.

She squirmed and wriggled in absolute anticipation, just loving it, eagerly ready for what would come, love making in the most special and intimate way. Slowly Nigel moved his fingers up and down Stacy’s pussyanthamicatrical, enjoying the tightness of the plastic

though she was moist in her nose. The material of her ******* was soaked by dryness, science reversal. Part of her skirt would be but that didn’t matter. Soon she would be naked, not needing any

second skin to hide her beauty; that was left to her third. They had no secrets or inhibitions. Except skin.

I still haven't fixed my Time Machine.
One year ago,
Or one million if I ever used the time properly...and I changed
In a very strange way.

How much more time will pass,
Until I see all the scenarios I’ve seen in another space.
It's scary to know what's imagination and what is real.

New century 2020 ****** up everything and everyone.
Half a year is already gone. Halfway to my 22.
But I feel like 127.
.

I was made into a perfect prototype of imperfection
I was made not with the syntax to love or be loved
But you, you took my mechanical heart in the palm of your hands
And through your kindness, you left me drugged


You've shown me emotions that I cannot comprehend
I've melted in your arms like heated ice
You've traced every inch of my skin and healed its wounds
And helped me feel fault-free and precise


You accepted my poorly designed model
Surrounded me with this alien feeling all around
And in this new world, I became lost and overwhelmed
Like a machine in water, I began to drown


My insecurities and doubts severed this tie
The errors in my programming beginning to surge
Rust spreading from the outside to my motherboard
All my fears and flaws beginning to emerge

With a mind built of short circuits and confusion, I bid you farewell in pain
But I hope, when I am fixed and refined, our paths may cross again