Echoes of electricity,
flood the ram of today,
CPU pulses like indecision,
The modern horse gallops sweetly,
on ill-begotten wires.
Your clicks fling secret whispers, alternating between red ausencia and the blue paradox.
Do you feel that electric churn?
Weights lifting in apathy, dreaming roundups:
Capturing butterflies with broken nets, all—
Schemes, burnt out like pixels dusk after seas of scrolling,
In teasing passages of time lost;
A query without language.