Sometimes, when I am alone,
I scour the internet, seeking you,
Or you, or you, or you— or, you perhaps.
And for a day you may be perfection,
For a week, you may be sublime,
A fortnight? Most likely my all.
And maybe in love we both shall fall?
Perhaps your heart, I’ll break in two,
Or most likely we’ll fuck or so,
‘Till digitised minds are changed,
And you’re no less, no more, again.