You call us 'White Bombers', say
we sting, i.e. touch, as if we were psychos
going about hurting people
Were you a phantom
of cold smoky colour
a dancer in the dark
knowing nothing else
as you were made
without a brain
with three years of luck
to live, i.e. shine-dance
but most likely are cut
short by almost any
life forms that come near
even your own species
you don't need each other
you are fine
being asexual
so long as you can dance
Were you one would you
not get wired
feeling short of
language or gestures
just like the one of you
who cut his ear off
the first time he felt
another being
so close
