the machine's song is as sweet as the earth that holds it and its blood as red as the inside of the hands that made it

a computer is an organism, in a way, it's a body.

you can reach inside the inner walls of its being 

you can feel the soft rubber of the cables on your skin as they tangle all across your fingers

you can feel them pull on your skin 

you can make the tips of your fingers travel across the surface of a motherboard 

you can softly caress the inductors and its bumps 

you can feel the shy burn of its inner walls while it's still warm 

you can push, pull, cut, destroy its veins and touch at the heart

and in the end, the only thing pulsating inside of that body is the gentle red light indicating that there is still life, singing: 

i am one with you, i too breathe, bleed and die. i am at your mercy just as you are at mine. we could die together, if you wanted to, but i know that the only thing left for me is to live and serve you, to be still, hold my breath, and wait for you to pull the plug. you could also turn me on, drop a bucket of water on my body and watch my nervous death take place, watch the sparks fly like you're watching the sky on the fourth of july. or you could throw me in a landfill so my body rots next to the other organisms deemed not human enough. to be sold for parts. is that what you want? how much of me do you hold? how much of me do you depend on? do i grow more expendable the older i get? how much of me is me, and how much of you is you? was the only time you owed me awe when you reached into the inner workings of my being, and pulled away without a stain? 

-f

(originally written april 2023)