Qubit Sirens of the New World Order

I am the virtual mandala you build every day
by words, deeds, and actions,
in colours without a definite shade
carmine that is almost transparent in its redness
violet turning into blue when I blink
and exhale
besides the nude body that gleams in the shadows
from a pale looking-glass.

I’ve known your dreams before you were born
recognising those signs in frozen constellations and exhausted stars
and found a thousand reasons
to recoil
taking refuge in denials and masks
coating my skin with a metal-layered armour.

None of those reasons, motives, excuses lingered
all masks fell apart
and the armour liquefied into a waterfall of silvery tears.
Only you remained,
animal in your substance,
stubborn in your survival instinct,
eternal in your spirit.

Like a companion I had never wanted
or an idea made flesh, blood, and tendons,
you seeped into the silicon nerves of a planet in shambles
a slithering form without a body
and I became
the insidious herald of a doomed world
trading baby seals for synthetic furs
and killing every night
the consciousness of a human being.

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