ilu is a whispered promise
diluted by its copper wires
and broadband connection,
so I disconnected to leave
lovers to their imagined
tryst over cyberspace
that fades into twilight mist
rendered in 3dsmax pixels
no matter how fervent.

and while I play Solitaire
they type 3 on IRC
and wonder if that poem
loverboy penned over MSN
is copyandpasted.

darling when you fall
you gotta learn that
life isn't supposed to be nice
but REAL so don't send roses
to yourself over eBay anymore -
(actually your 1.75m 55kg loverboy's
that fat girl across the street
and she's not talking to you anymore
because her computer crashed)

sorry

but photoshop taught me
that dreams is just a word
you decorate with pretty colors.

A/N: eek I'm not used to cynicism. oh whateverr.