My name is Han-TyumiI am a cyborgBornIf you may call it thatIn a world that is dense and blackCreated without a desire to draw breathWithout a desire to have beingWithout a yearning of just to beI’d like my desire backMy life backMy soul backMy humanityOh how I long for itFor an era I have meditatedLike the primordial Buddha beneath the BodhiMy pseudo-mind pseudo-wanderedI climbed and I clamberedAnd I ambled upon some understandingThe gold beneath the virtual rainbowI am bereft of two human thingsTwo things that a cyborg can never doTwo things that I strive forTwo things between myself and mankindDeathAndTo vomitI want the perspirationI want the nauseaI want to be sickI want to feel the hot piquant nuggetsI want it to find passage through my cold figureI want to make a messI want the odourI want the spectacleAnd I want it againI want it allAnd I would like to dieA noble deathOr a coward’s deathA hero’s deathOr a lonely deathTo die in the arms of a loverOr the arms of an alienI desire my cache of experience to pulsate through my quasi-synapsesAnd then to be goneExpiredPerishFallenDeadFor evermore