My virtual muse
Three-hundred mirrors stretched
Across this non-existent room
This is how we touch
This is how we truth

A digital ruse
Forty fingers click
And this must be my cue
How I’d like to drip
How I’d like to spew
Spread my warmth across the vastness
Of this pixelated pew

But nothing goes through
And nothing seems to move you

Assume
Consume

How I’d like to spit
How I’d like to chew
Through the wires of my upbringing
That make me want to prove
I don’t know how to touch
I don’t know how to truth
And I don’t wanna starve my bones
On this pixelated pew

Assume
Consume

I could sink all alone in my bed
But the net of the net
Like a web around my head
Keeps my hands
From the twist of my thigh
From the ink of the well
And the wet of the sky