Technological Insomnia

Wrapped in calligraphy
it's two in the morning,
yet my curious cranium  
transfixes itself to the  
glaring illuminated pane
before me.  
 
A delicate and ornate  
tangle of universes presents itself;
unbreakable,
untouchable,
immortal.  
 
Insentient omnipotence?
Oh, what an enticing chaos.  
Itching and urging
to plunge myself into this carnage.  
 
After all, how could my creativity  
deny such a flawless magnum opus?
Such an irresistible and sour delight.  
 
Two hours later:
Bloodshot and aching eyes,
my body in a state of paralysis;
conscious rigor mortis.
 
I love it,
I love it not;
in my vacant mind
I'm plying at the petals  
of a buttercup.  
 
Like an obdurate oaf
I rebuff the thought of rest.  
 
A *click* here and there
prancing from one bait to another.  
 
Burgeoning from a cocoon of curiosity,
now a butterfly captured in a web.  
 
Tremblingly clutching to the ledge of consciousness,
eyelids fluttering like a fly's wings.  
I decide to press the off button,
then I jolt into my dreams.  
 
A surreal swoop from sleep to reality.  
It's nearly midday.
I press the on button and browse some more.  
 
I would run a globe's length  
to reject this  
violent, exhausting temptation.  
But I'd end where I began.  
 
One macabre flourish
and I'm hooked.