Heart of Circuitry: Act Two

Part two of my poem series doohickey.

So foreign;
Naked alloy abreast the clean, cool air
A teratoma, surrounded by orchids.

Man-made synapses crackle and tingle,
The ability to feel, never before felt
Slender, streamlined digits touch and grip the inanimate
Frayed wiring,
Knobs and switches,
The door handle.

The door handle...
What wonders lie ahead?

Tip...
   Tap...
       Tip...
          Tap...

Hydraulic feet clink down the empty hall,
A myriad of doors, so clean and untouched
A soft creaking noise fills the crisp air.

Author's Note

I encourage you to rip it to shreds. Tell me what you love about it, tell me what you hate about it, tell me everything.