9

Cut me in half, and find that
there's nothing there
there never was, behind each glare
I live in this moment.
and in the very next I am dead.
am I alive?
a part of me can feel the wires through out my body instead of veins,
sparks of electricity through out my metal bones
screw off my head, or my hands, all hollow plastic
are they really apart of me at all?
If you looked at my heart,
would it beat knowing it was watched?
as the flesh rots, the consciousness thrives
in the end, only my brain will survive
thinking of nothing but itself.