:::poetry
into the dark;
We walk partaking of the art, the lark sings
the heart eclectic,
Electric collectibles, in between the folds
puncture holes, with the gestalt lines which now adorn my digi-soul

I am so close but yet so far away, the princess and the knave,
modern love has found me once again entombed in Plato’s cave.

The transmission of the morning dove, modern love,
does cyborgal heartache chain me to the shadows low
or release me to the sun above?

I caught a golden finch, it keyed into my calloused hands
this uncharted artificial land
The swallow sings—me gulping down the liquid crystal fibers tangled nest inside my mind

Cyborgal love, rake over my electric flesh with your simulated lullaby.
:::