I have you.










Typed across my skin, like burn marks.
I have you, typed in pink and blue...
or black, when we were lazy and didn't bother to change the font,
to make it more like us.

I bear you, strapped like a cross.
Typed across my skin like newspaper pictures.
Written and doodled over and over again.

I tasted you, through cables and miles.
I tasted you, through modems and LAN's.
I felt you, through voice and chat.

I felt you.
Dead phone lines.

I have you typed across my skin in pink and blue,
I carry you stabbed through my eyes, in Times New Roman.

I felt your fingertips through the white cable in a dream,
where the plugs settled against the holes of my skin,
and spilled you through like human jelly.

I tasted you because I could.
I bear you typed across my skin, to remind me of

Promises and cables and dreams and impossibilities.

Romance and novels and lusty phonelines.

~















I have you typed.
across my skin.



(Another one of those things rigth from the top of my head.)

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