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The wound is healed by swallowing a bit of the damaging toxin...
Karen Houser---Eran Westwood
Here comes that existential emptiness
Chewing through my flesh.
Insomnia dominates and makes my body ache,
Like a wounded animal run over by a truck,
My life is disfigured, I just need to be touched.
I want to painfully connect with another tortured soul.
I learned to love my machine, now I need human contact.
I'll throw away my machine if you give me human contact.
I obsess about growing old, especially since I'm alone,
So much I've been denied, a miracle that I survived.
Such distinctive lines embedded under my eyes,
Lick my face, vacuum the sorrow out of my brain.
What is intimacy? Anchor it to me.
Am I so inadequate, unworthy of happiness,
Wish I had more to give you babe.
I'm working on it, maybe someday.
I hope by then it's not too late.
I fell in love with my machine,
But he doesn't talk back to me.
I depend upon my machine, now I need the real thing.
I'll throw away my machine if you penetrate me.
September 5th, 2000