The gears in my clockwork heart St-st-stutter and cough Twisting, wrenching, straining To turn back to our normal "Click-clunk-click": Our structured rhythm-dance As clouds of rust-dust, lust-dust Fly from my mechanized mind which, Mis-wired, streams lifeblood data to my people processor And my sights focus sharply on you.
Metal arms reach but are not seen, Fingers touch but are not felt. My mouth screams: "See me! Discern me!" But the flat iron tone does not compute. I say nothing that is real. Nothing that is human. You stand before me, unaffected Frighteningly beautiful in your imperfection.
Kerchlunk. The gears turn. Oil: black-brown Eases from my eyes. Gun cocked, gaze steady, We move on. Ready. Aim. Fire.