This fruit is digital
Counting fingers
Down, in to oblivion
There was something in those lines
That sealed a thought in my mind
My world
Alone
At peace
A window open
To breathe with the soul
In silence
I can feed your illusions
Alleviate the confusion
With a sweet taste of fantasy
*
I can shroud you in darkness
Force you to cry and confess
With a promise of ecstasy
*
I can make you wish
I can make you believe
I can make you steal
I can make you deceive
But that’s not the way
I love
“To perceive the real within the virtual machine, one must take a step back from the screens in order to view the obvious. For the machine: the screen is a means of projection. The machine itself is a tool in unseen hands.”
My little bird of spring
You somehow survived the winter
After refusing to leave
During the fall
You found a warmth
That melts the snow
And an embrace
That won’t let go
And thus declared
That warmer climes
Were not your call