To you, my friend

To you, my friend,

My distant cluster of pixels,

My bits of happiness, my moments of virtual bliss.

You fill up my empty moments with blank stares

Of your plastic smiles and his wooden jaw,

Your sculpted legs and his awkward stare,

Your attempt at wit, and his, at seduction.

Courted by blue, liked by you,

Mocks Web 3.0,

"You aren't like us.

You have a posse bunch of acquaintances

That smile with you, and laugh at you

And have bottoms you desire

But will never reach your fire.

We have million dollar smiles

And public lust

And youth. And appetite.

You aren't like us.

You cower, wonder about a dower,

And grow old, and alone, but never lonely.

No, never lonely. That wont do, it cant do.

We touch, we feel,

We graze, we fondle.

We're your baser instinct, you're unquenched fantasy."

And I watch, and I scroll,

And I pretend to roll

Back the hours, and the moments

Of unfinished love, and unkept promises.

To you, my friend

I pay a moment of longing, a smidgeon of hate.

A fleck of bloodrush, and a strand of lust.

Stop. Wake up. Run

Its past your bedtime.

Your eyes, they don't bother with a protest any longer. They burn, like the final match on a windy day.

Your mind gently gives way.

The colours on that old crystal display are strange streaks of VGA.

You ponder, when did this happen.

When did the Moon and the Skies move on

Out of your grasp of nonchalant control.

Your head feels light, with years of oversight,

And regret, and loss, and shame.

There is no liberty.

There was once sloth,

The tingle in your legs on a midsummer's afternoon

As you stretched out and gave the world a mighty finger.

No care, nor concern, oblivious to danger

From the world,so brightly grim,

Full of wizened figures with broken dreams and golf clubs full of gleam.

You're a child, out of your league and into the wild.

Stop. Wake up. Run.