Digital aberration

What are you doing, Skippy? With the kch-kch-kch s-s-(k)et(ch) and rhthym, you funk with my flow.
Drawing in the squeaky emanations along the edges of my aural assaults, are you reaching out? Why do you break like concussive borders of oceans booming along my static electricity? Whence do you come if not the groanings of the machine that never loved you, never took the time to know you as the most intimately bound soundscapes that grace our ears?

Weeping chimes of glass chandeliers never glistened like the tears that roll down your digital cheeks as I bide your wire-frame outbursts soaking in the salt and brine of your electric echoes.
It's OK: even robots need love.