Half machine and have biological, I am the perfect union of forged steel and living cells vibrating together in a perfect frequency of post-apocalyptic fever born of megatons of radioactive uranium mixed with the eggs and seed of vampires and Gothic maidens. Designed to survive through drought and famine and to overcome any blast or strike I am not only dressed for function but also to adorn my physical and emotional amputations with a glamor and sophistication that common robes cannot offer. Burlap and leather, copper and lead beading; these are the rivets that hold my armour together.

Across barren lakebeds dried and salt crusted we gather in the Burning Man tradition but without any media or external feeds for ours is the true sense of outsider and our invisible groups never mingle with groups for the sake of belonging. We prefer to not belong and would seek my own annihilation before succumbing to your popular sham  or popularity and glitter.

Scarves and goggles allow me to speed without blinking. Canteens filled with blood give me sustenance as we wander through the streets of destroyed villages and civilizations who have consumed themselves with their own self leaching fascinations. Gears and springs wind me and keep me running in a steady forward automaton motion ever towards my glass tower that allows the suns power to enter and charges the batteries of my soul with books and songs from birds with mechanical wings of semi-precious metals.