Here we are, online mourning the offline world,
Our little smiling faces talking over themselves
And stuck in identical squares like small beings
Longing for the analogical spit. And meanwhile
Muted, multiplied, and hiding from Time itself,
Here are we, born of our birth’s boredom. Here :
Rearranging pieces of furniture for ourselves just,
Circle dancing in our shelters emptied of strangers.

Image credit : Ordure Bizarre