Cold barren lights hang alone outside,
Pale orbs of glass stained with dead flies.
Lightning leeches spaces on pallid hearts,
Charring emotions right back to the start.

Next to the wan glow of the computer screen
Contiguous to the highlands of guile
Roosts the source of the murk in my trace.
A hounding spirit; a menacing, tremulous, face.

Forlorn in a maelstrom of pop-ups and shadows,
Our wills acquiesce to a spiderweb of sparks
A flurry of lost commands- keyboard shortcuts
To a deadened mind; sunken into dark.

We sit alone in a trance;
lost, hooked,
by the omniscient cursor's dance.

The silent voyeur caught with the shutters down;
his eyes fight his tormentor's sadistic frown.

The pallid fool who left his heart on a hook;
He's learnt the internet is an immutable charge book

The short, dark girl who hoists her hope into the air,
The guillotine of never giving up slices through her chair;
-so she falls to the ground, just like her dreams around her.

Meanwhile, the one placed behind the screen sits, a spectator of all;
Our feelings cascade about his own like lonely streets in fall.
He thinks he's taken it all into his own lands,
But in reality, his disease is one that's transcended many hands.