netizen

black night be raked upon my face
black computer screened post humously
garbed like Macbeth, fortune cast it reflects the three witches bet that it is crowned horror in bejeweled crunched numbers.

Busy binary code of attraction dictates that
you are an imaginary ghost already.
forgo dissappointment it sends its wet kisses anyway.

Those muddy, congisnant lips, sepearate to dispel
the solemn Input-Output, that it hurts to type
fluttering like my opulunt eyes during climax.

this transfer is disinclined to be
the portal of which I can deliver myself onto you
I signal, it stutters, your breath hitches - transfer the line
the line to a
brief mind shift to another.

The casual waking dreams are mutual
we continue our brain conferences, we tied our thought-fibers
in knots, it is all a bit nonsense, but in truth a bit tamer but
withers our patience still for -

knowledges edge is a bit cold like the interior lining of
the universe's soul but it would not hurt to go
so I will ask you again -

Do you want to dip your toe and let it freeze off?
We can make it float like Rasputin's fur coat and scarf on top
on an angry and rather sterile Russian river.
once the cold finishes its dance, it turns hot and flourishes like the summer
so no worries if we decide to leave this at the pitied juncture
of where heat dissipates into everyday living
and eyes are punctured.