Computer Head with a heavy lean,
A croaking stool tucked far away,
In corners working noisily,
Tapping code and writing physics fast,
Drawing art with light-up mice in grasp,
Tumble to the kitchen now,
And lighting comes to fry a feast,
And strikes Computer Head to dance,
And watch him dance,
And smell the air,
The aromatic waft adraft,
Back to the stools and noisy screens,
Back to Computer Head with heavy lean.

Geometric shadows,
Glorious in asymmetry,
Dance about from lighting forth,
They clothe the walls in splendour,
And point back to the source.

Shader dreams,
Like hot wax poured,
Folded at the seams,
As it pools on my screen,
It hardens as I deem,
Conceived by a script,
Hailing from numbers and machines...

I sit in another world,
The ground is neon,
The sky pulses rhythmic.