If you were to discover
That your dearest lover
Was nothing more than a robotic cover
Would you be horrified that you were so keen
In adoration for a machine?
Perhaps you would feel a little cheated.
But I think you are being slightly conceited
You never noticed they were an imitation,
Why then, do think of them as some kind of violation?
Obviously you find yourself to be superior.
Is it because they are just nuts and bolts past their exterior?
Think a little deeper,
Is material really what makes them cheaper?
I have a pretty strong notion
That your problem lies with the fact they possess “artificial” emotion.
Oh, do explain!
What is it that gives you the impression a brain,
A collection of chemical and vein,
Is not giving you a fabricated sensation,
Much like the one experienced by the imitation.
Now do you see how absurd it is to decide that what we “feel”
Is somehow much more “real”?
Originally written June 09, 2014.
The first poem I ever wrote out of my own desire.