This Machine is My Master

This machine is my master.
It is IT that cracks the whip over my pale skin, sending me to the earth with the force of a cruel god.
Moments of pure pleasure are quickly reversed, IT recalls my melancholy, IT reminds me of doubts and jealousies laying dormant.
"On no!" it screams, "you will not know stillness!"
The machine craves its sadness, devotion to misery and depression are recited like memorized prayers. Like an addict, it searches for pain.
It takes me back to this state, over and again, in an instant, I am whimpering with fears. Before consciousness understands the descent, my open heart, full of new types of tears can turn bitter, fearing the inevitable loss it knows will come…yes, my machine coos softly, "don’t forget, you are alone."