am a human tool, a drawing pencil, shedding skin cells and lead from the no. 2 pencil in my saliva

am **** and blood, skin and hair, all come-go, return re-tuned,
at their own chosen speed, gen of regeneration

am cracks and orifices, filling and emptying obediently,
to the tidings of the grieving gravity of my moon's decisions
that govern the lunatic cycle

you may kiss me with all your heart into a robust welcoming,
scorn me with spittle and deem unfit, I know the difference
and it is inconsequential

am, see me as combustible or flat, airless and empty,
as a new or a two day old birthday balloon, or an abbreviated haiku, that makes the reader gasp for the reasoning for breathing

think of me as a meme who responds to the touch of your
nippled forefinger,  but my powers are unlisted, therefore unlimited

for I am neither cyber or cypher though aesthetically they
appear as parts of my humanity, a human machine
forever reprogramming to new stimuli sensulating, such as
the temperature of your breath, the many disparate odors of you,
the curve of your eyes, the wetness of moist places

inputs that bear emergent newborn children notions in my
chested cavernous gas chambers, the bellum bellies of my brain

my digital describe in thousands of computers do hide,
but to comprehend the interacting calculations that are
my constancy and my inconsistencies, you must make a tour
if you are awake between midnight ~ dawn when from wells,
the visions, the fluids and the words are drawn

they,
the residuals of a man's ******* between
other humans, akin, and the thriving discourse between
man and gods of invisible powers,  
that offers insanity
as a viable solution, to cracking the coded human DNA,
we exchange in silence from need,
to translate ourselves
to each other