Hyperesthesia (a hypersonnet)

She feels the sizzle coming through the wires,
she strokes the keys with tingling fingertips,
vibrating with the throb of microchips,
her face aglow with light from cathode fires.

She has the turning world beneath her hand,
she hears the piercing whine as rotors turn
and smells the ozone stink as motors burn
and rides a coursing current made of sand.

A world of knowledge there at her command,
a web of information there to learn,
but drawn by want, surrendering her trust,
she searches for the banished and the banned,
and enters in and lets her passions churn
and gives herself completely to her lust.

Her tongue is stung by copper-tinged desires,
she bytes into the core and chews her lips,
past sense into the sensual she slips
and types and types and types ‘til she expires.

And then the morning comes, as morning must,
and turns electric dreams to cyberdust.