Tell Me I Exist - Lydia Ainsworth

In leverage of your comfort

To match a portrait’s face

That hangs inside of a museum

Now hangs a database

A facial scan for adoration

I’ve heard the Hunter tell this

But the ecstasy of death

And then the Brake is still

Tell me I exist

Look what I’ve become

Prove that I’m still here

Prove that I’m enough

This facial validation

A nexus in some sense

It holds all of our private thoughts

All finely condensed

Now it seems anonymity

Is luxury to own

I fantasize the private life

With my DNA’s unsigned contracts

Tell me I exist

Look what I’ve become

Prove that I’m still here

Prove that I’m enough

Tell me I exist

Look what I’ve become

Prove that I’m still here

Prove that I’m enough