O sweet baby,
it's so magical,
this technoligical-realm
of fantasy!

My apparent want of you
is fiery, so astronomical.
I succumb to your
desirous-advances,
make love to you
in the shadows.

I can taste your
"Y" in space,
rinse
the screen-dust
off my tongue & face,
but then what darling?

French kiss you in email,
whisper sweet nothings
into my cell,
finger your text,
do you with symbols,
*** you up good in jpeg,
explode together on Skype,
hammer you on Twitter,
free flow into you with a fax,
seed you with a nice
warm stream of pixels?

O my dear lady,
I miss the feel of real flesh,
the sensation of your
feminine flower-grip,
that sultry look
in your pretty-eyes,
the wanton shuddering,
nailed-fingers streaking on my back,
your hypnotizing unrecorded-vocals
& the alluring fragrance
of your raw hot-skin.

And O I feel lonelier now,
more than ever
before this modern age of science
& hi-tech communication.

How 'bout you,
do you feel the same???
Just sext me &
let me know!
:-P...

The mistake.
This technology we now have, we make gut-ripping mistakes with it.
Or, at least you do.
With your fanciful lies of love and life, to me.
Again, the pain of the lies.
It never ceases, it takes new shape and gathers steam.
Like drinking a fine wine, only to discover, you've poisoned it.
Once, only once - I believed in your love, until you smashed me in the face with reason not to. Bruising my face, my ugly, docile face.
A burn, that singed my soul.
That mistake. Your mistake.
That message - you sent it - to me,  but... it was not for me.
Always I dream what my intuition is trying to sell, always you lie and hide it well.
You planted that seed long ago, your first technoligical mistake - I've been an utter fool.