The evening is a pale wash;
bleached seen screen colours
And burning eyes twitching
Under the influence of drink:
Cans and vodka scattered as
Offering to some forgotten god.
He smiles, slack lipped, abusing;
Pushing and making strange noises
That no one is around to hear.
As he croons praises to machines
Twin monitors flickering with colour
Like seizure-inducing eyes, and he
Overclocks, and does it again, the
Grating drone of his computer the
Proof that he is Powerful.
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