They rule us with
Every fiber
Of their optics.
Their cables drag us
Into dim-lit dungeons
Where filth-eating mice
Click and chitter.
The windows open
Onto dark scenes,
Not natural light,
But a man-made attempt
At illumination.
And all too often hang
Open without shutters
Or filters.
Their screens don't seem to keep
Anything out,
But only welcome
Intrusions.
Their keys open doors,
Though more easily
Close and bar them;
Keys that shackle us
With every touch.
The desktop is filthy,
And it rubs off on our eyes,
Marks our head.
We are enveloped in the net,
Tangled in endless folds.
They're hard drivers,
With all the power
We give them.
People ask us why--
Fie! is our answer.
We claim control over
Our unfeeling masters.
Their day-ta-day
Becomes our mind.
We improve them,
Giving them greater memory,
And allow them to RAM us
Into submission.
They tempt us with faster
Servers,
But we serve them. Ω
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