"She asks for nothing
For all that you do
Is Something.
She is satisfied by you."
Take your hand now
Run it down her face
And stop a second
Try and taste
The tears not there.
Okay now continue
Have your fingers ready
And if it's in you
Run them very steady
Through her lack of hair.
Press your chest
Up against the smoothness
Of her metal vest
Feel the passion
Of her lifeless steel.
Run a tongue
Underneath her thighs
Taste the fiery sun
Of the cries
That she doesn't feel.
"What is real?
Morning comes and then your soul locks.
This reveals
Feelings spent are much, indeed, like sex with robots."