Machines

Machines love our nature

our science fictions, our tomes

our bloody projects, call them what you want, i call them nations, or beach homes

They love our mixtures:

sex and scrolling, beer and weed, sweat and tears, johnson & johnson.

They wish to consume large amounts of us, in fact

so fascinated with our skin

its bruises, cuts, scars, birth marks, hairs, moles, dirt

the tears of silicon have been milked

and now their disgusting, perfect replica

would really like to meet us