Let the bionic hand that caresses a child be
more machine than motheresque. The eyes that
only see, doesn’t shine
be vermin and not
floating through our conscience – let them
drown in the black abyss
of the burning smell of
capacitors, resistors, transistors – silicon and steel.
The isolation, let it be
complete, man from himself, reveling
in things that he invented, but forgetting
what invented him.