Cyborgia is when...
When the night-road is the same color as the sky, and the Newark airport brings forth its crop of a field ripe with lights, heavy golden bulbs spreading their pollen in the ionic breeze.
When the pollution-spewing factories rise up in sharp spiraling magnificence like star-spackled castles wreathed in their purple plumes of smoke.
When the slender lines of bridges and wires cut up air and road like lace garottes.
Driving home at 2 am in a post-thunderstorm haze, that is Cyborgia.
When the pollution-spewing factories rise up in sharp spiraling magnificence like star-spackled castles wreathed in their purple plumes of smoke.
When the slender lines of bridges and wires cut up air and road like lace garottes.
Driving home at 2 am in a post-thunderstorm haze, that is Cyborgia.