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?
 O-
rtho
Man,
can you
align my
b y t e ?
Should my jaw
be wired?  These
are questions for
the trip chip to
know and the computer
girl to answer.  A
guilty-sweet saliva girl
wells in the pocket between
my gum and lips.  She just
loves it there.  Maybe she will
clean my teeth and align my byte.
As I lick my bloody chips, I
realize I soon must die in the hand
of my envy (that would be me) for I
have loved and blood is the shadow of
my indulgence.  My tendril pleasures are
visible through my transparent skin.
Silicon chips replace silicone implants.
You can pierce me like a tender bulb of
flesh, read through my skin.  Cotton fills
my cheeks like acid dries my mind.  Bits
eat each joy morsel and carve caverns and
patterns.  Please, cotton and wire,
bring me closer to the fool I need to
be, closer to the food I need to
eat--food which won't fill my arms
without rotting my teeth
first.  Can my teeth stay
white and my belly
full?