Hello,
My name is Han-Tyumi.
I am a cyborg.
Born,
If you may call it that.
In a world that is dense and black.
Created without a desire to draw breath.
Without a desire to have being.
Without a yearning just to be.
I'd like my desire back.
My life back.
My soul back.
My humanity.
Oh how I long for it.
For an era I have meditated.
Like the primordial Buddha beneath the bodhi.
My pseudo-mind pseudo-wandered.
I climbed and I clambered.
And I ambled upon some understanding.
The gold beneath the virtual rainbow.
I am bereft of two human things.
Two things that a cyborg can never do.
Two things that I strive for.
Two things between myself and mankind.
Death.
And.
To vomit.
I want the perspiration.
I want the nausea.
I want to be sick.
I want to feel the hot piquant nuggets.
I want it to find passage through my cold figure.
I want to make a mess.
I want the odour.
I want the spectacle.
And I want it again.
I want it all.
And I would like to die.
A noble death.
Or a coward's death.
A hero's death.
Or a lonely death.
To die in the arms of a lover.
Or the arms of an alien.
I desire my cache of experience to pulsate through my quasi-synapses.
And then to be gone.
Expired.
Perish.
Fallen.
Dead.
For evermore.