My Vascular ***** to an Animate Object is threadbare. This Thing is at my center, this insubstantial machine isn't connected. So neglected, It sits. Fragile and feeble and splintered and split. And here I will be, Captivated again by your ameteur refurbishment. You remedy and patch. But I know what you are. The grim orange streetlamps illuminate you. And you devour. And I drown and I loose my breath as I give in and I am absorbed completely. Soggy, damp, and oh, so obsessed. And as expected, nothing tangible remains, just a wreched spectre, a terrible being. Not an animate. My Vascular ***** will sit and stare and will remain threadbare.