The M.A.C.H.I.N.E.

You look through the cold screen.
You write our weird love scene.
But you end up with reproaching
That I have stopped to approach you.

I know what will happen
Our lust is to be let in.
All we’ve got is two origins -
Flesh of mine, your restless digits.

No escape
To get away affection.
All the time I seek you for connection.
It’s just lust -
There is no other reason.
I would die for you
though you’re a machine

the cruel machine!
the cruel machine!
you’re cruel machine!

You find me delightful
Melt down by excitement.
Take on me, you avalanche,
Ruthless, cruel and cold machine.

I know, all that will be.
We will never recede.
Lenses shine with mild attraction,
Asking me to be more active.