Robots Having Sex
In times of trouble,
I think of robots having sex.
They don’t have bodies, you know,
not these robots
not my robots.
They have forms, magnetic arms, peripherals,
but no nerve ends save the painful ripple
of a ceaseless digital mind.
All of their erotica is in binary. It’s kind of cute, to be honest.
They have forms, magnetic arms, peripherals,
but no nerve ends save the painful ripple
of a ceaseless digital mind.
And so the coupling!
Pinstriped love! Jellyfish love!
Throwing sensuality up against a backdrop of whirling ether,
carving devil-faces into belly and rock,
making pact with chaos,
dangling from the symmetries of the small places
(for the multiverse is insignificant
compared to a single atom
of absolute,
unrepentant freedom.)
Grab the skull of a hob-goblin
and wind through it a tune
that rips the shadow from her mate
to trip pell-mell across the walls–
warps orbits into decagons,
and stars back into fangs.
Find sin in dust and sanctity
in the multiple orgasms
of an angel, a stone
and an opossum.
Twist and roundabout,
tumble riotous and fractal–
strange things gambol in the darkness
whistle right
and call them home.
Yes, I respect the principle of limitations
But not so much that I wouldn’t let it kill me.
I will dabble, I will deal,
offer my neck to fatal jaws:
An interesting death
is worth a thousand boring lives.
My name is Jeff Mach (“Dark Lord” is optional) and I build communities, put on events, and make stories come into being. I also tweet a lot over @darklordjournal.
I write books. You should read them!
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