I feel computers’ heart down in my chest
its beat as low and level as a Monday morning
its digital command of visors in my head
as perfect as a neatly staged religious mourning
I feel computers’ blood down in my veins
its selfless calm living a hundred deaths
its speculative mood and coolness of its lens
its touchless hands and sweet aroma breath
I feel computers’ mind up in my brain
And down my spine its icy bone-clad tail
its ruthless numbers running with disdain
yet my complaints again of no avail
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem