Carry On dot.com Sitcom

Skinstorm of scripts
written upon Wi-Fi wrists,
ever the moon is vowel shaped

Wide to receive
from another lonely hand,
as roadkill waiting to be shovelled
earthed into the ground

Who will chalk around cursors
at love-crime cyber scene?

Something is squeezing your skull
Surfing Transmitted Disease,
tinder sticks smoulder desire
before rain retreats to the sky
& reality nothing more than a drunk emoji

Post mortem modem
threads bone though keyboards,
no ghosts in the machine
only disembowelled howls of psychopaths

She sent him the laptop she dreamt on
he delivered barcodes of plastic roses
stolen from a drowned cemetery

Never ending network of cables
like umbilical cords worming back to wombs,
kneeling foetal at altar of tongues
nurture is the language only thieves can speak

From the ice age to covid age
We all got situation comedy blues,
taking to bed another author’s scripts
divorcing reality from fantasy,
Rinse+Repeat
Ctrl+Alt+Delete

In cyber space no one hears you scream
above the long night clatter
of a thousand clicks and whispers
from the cracks in walls