C a n m y t e e t h s t a y w h i t e a n d m y b e l l y f u l l ? 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?