This chemical. romance.

In front of the non-caustic glow of the computer screen...
I'm afraid I sometimes slip through the cracks in between the keyboard without even knowing it. There used to be purpose. Now, it's just a communication instinct. When I talk to you, you're as real as I'd imagine. But I want you to remain untouched.

Whorrible, you're getting yourself entangled -
in a mess of wires and circuit boards.
Poor thing, you don't speak for yourself anymore -- you cunt.