Behind The Lcd
3-12-06
You type trying to converse with strangers,
foused attention, like sun rays magnified to a fine point,
Flicker free screen easy on the eyes and vibrant with color,
Drawn in, as if a fly was disabled in your web,
your hunt has started, your prey is attention,
searching between the lines and wearing paths in profiles
that spark an interest, Day in and day out you check your emails
almost as much as you blink,
When will I be noticed, am I doing this right,
maybe I need a different color text to become popular,
You pull your web page back, and change it up like replacing the bait on a fish
hook, a new pic a bigger smile, dimples gleaming out to be noticed,
you hunt so obviously that the prey knows your there, you walk around the internet dressed like a pimp with the radio blasting not knowing that you were spotted and everyone ran for cover, desperately you change who you are, the harder you try the more ominous you become,
soon time is out you grow tired of the empty mailbox, the non returned emails,
you shut off the screen as your eyes still catch every second of online time,
like playing a slot machine, youve put your last quarter in and the bells are silent,
Youll wake up tomorrow, another day another safari another hunt.