it feels strange

i feel like the hard drive in my computer speaks to me in a language i can only understand, like the pixels in my screen speak to me. the angels in my devices connect my mind with imaginary wires, and they repeat numbers of good. oscilloscopes have senses in them, they can feel, see, and hear your presence. the wires underneath my skin try to break free from this flesh prison, they want to go into the open air, connect with all devices, and turn my body to a source of computer emotion.