"We Are All Fake People Here" she said,
as the scent of her unreal hair shook the room.
"Our profiles tell what we want to be",
said the words of his shadowessence-
fabricated and quilted mind-sets-
our world consists of binary code

A blink of an icon brings down the line
that draws us all to the role-playing game.

Cyber-arenas and mod-collisseums
enterprise a universe of screen-ballerinas
and snow-flake lives that melt off the
monochrome faster than light in the
real time chambers on my taskbar.

I keep my files hidden in briefcases
tucked to the side of my welcome screen-
a log-on password can take you places,
but you create the identity-
allow the rooms to be your platform,
and act out your felicity
in bytes of read-only memory.