Dreamed 2016/6/13 by Chris Wayan
In a future so near you could text it, I'm a song-
writer's personal assistant. She's one
of the first artificial minds. Sings on
stage, a translucent holograph--rainbow tease!
She has a body though--a unicorn with faux
fur, wood bones, muscles of dense foam
like Fiveheart Unicorn, my sculpture of a dream.
She dubs herself AI-corn, "eye-corn". My star adores
embodiment. Incarnate, nay emplushed, she can
fuck her human fans.
Not just boys. Girls too. Not just doin', gettin' done.
Orgies are normal for a popstar now, of course--
The firm that wrote her code ignored her nightlife till
Aicorn's makers know all publicity's good; why quell
The firm insists. Firmly. "Look, you learned to like
Aicorn just won't divorce her fetish. I concur. Sex play
Oh, I've dreamt it all before. Last time I ended on
But can I, will I, be that brave for me?
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