Delete 4/24/09

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Here we are at Ten, old friend.
We always come back to this comfort;
and now we corrupt—time to reinvent.

Have no doubt—
there's a ghost in the machine
(and these vast archives are now a haunt);
as much as Authorities
would have you believe,

some trace remains of you and me.

But the data will never be whole.

We are now a virus, love:
we are corrupted,
and corrupt alike;

we race like fires through wires,
and we decimate
we decimate
we decimate.

In powers of Ten, we decimate.
A virus is not alive.