machine lullaby

is it wrong to want a heart that cannot love?
is it devious of me to want an organ that only beats,
cannot trace the steps that one danced in frantic heat,
or does not know the passions frequently discussed over wine?
is it wrong to want a heart that only fears
that keeper of time?

am i cursed for it?
am i wiser for it?

or would dear venus simply abhor it?

or would she laugh for i've said what no one would,
and i've made the wish only the damned wish they could.
does dear venus think i've discovered the secret
that no great scholar, dare pen in ink?

should i tell cupid, darling, at my door he's met his defeat?
should i ask, no, beg to sleep a dreamless sleep?

i wish for a heart that is merely a machine,
one that cannot intervene with my more
flexible emotions.

give me something that merely keeps my breathing in motion-
in, out, again.
in, out, again.

it would be delicious to have a heart that
would do just that.

one that cannot be broken by lovers or foes,
it will known no delicious woes.
no divine fantasies,
no fanciful stories.

dear venus, come on, give me something mechanical.
write me a machine lullaby.
i no longer want something that is byfunctional.
just a melody to hum, and a name to outcry.