We Are But Broken Machines

there is power in my asexuality
and yet, power transforms so often into pity

within your vicious eyes looking upon me
some broken anomaly

flickering switches, oscillating off and on
there must be some faulty wiring concealed within

and so, you connived and prodded me
opening my insides with your tools of the mind and body

and yet, to your astonishment you discovered
my levers, pulleys, and belts operated to your flawed standard

and yet, still, I did not function as you or he intended
send my damaged body back, a new motherboard was needed

but they could not fix an incorrectly assembled machine
my mind came under recall, HSDD was the director

but there was no powering down this body defective
for my perception changed, and no repair was needed

and still they could attempt, twisting the screw deep within
pushing until a spring is sprung, ejection

you can spin the head and pull it back
like empty vessels, filled and put on a track

and yet, I am still mine
under these polystyrene sheets

no pulsations in deplete
not bound to the broken

or hung in my sleep
your controllers are obsolete