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to the cherry-berry vanillacream sparklepop
and your pneumafuel efficiency will increase
according to the Yakihatsu formula (sigma3, 9 to the power of four)
Robots are like Mars: they need
girls.
Boys won’t do;
the memesoup is all wrong. They stomp
when they should kiss
and they’re none too keen
on having things shoved inside them.
You can’t convince them
there’s nothing kinky going on:
you can’t move the machine without IV interface
fourteen intra-optical displays
a codedump wafer like a rose petal
under the tongue,
silver tubes
wrapped around your bones.
It’s just a job.
Why do boys have to make everything
sound weird? It’s not a robot
until you put a girl inside. Sometimes
I feel like that.
A junkyard
the Company forgot to put a girl in.
I mean yeah.
My crystal fingers are laser-enabled
light comes out of me
like dawn. Bright orangecream
killpink
