A shadow outlined against a screen.
Out of touch and searching for I know not what.
Someone whose broken with shattered dreams.
Dialing outward into the night.

A sound of static and that welcome whine.
A bright warm greeting, a password line.
Welcome friend we do not care.
What you have done, with whom, or where.

In this world of ascii and modems and such.
We do not feel, or cry, or touch.
We can sit here lonely in our revolving chair.
Telling lies to the folks out there.

We can live in a fantasy of games and talk.
About Star Trek or puters or how to use a wok.
In our world of magic there is no pain,
no warm fuzzy's, no sun, no rain.

We sit wishing for other dreams.
Of human contact, of life of dreams.
Locked in our rooms with our own little dream.
Our profile backlit by the computer screen.

DMZ 1991