Current Residence: The top of an island at the bottom of the world|
Favourite genre of music: Rock n' Roll
3 2 1I made it out of bed, the door,3 2 1 by theodamus
away, even nearly on time
to meet you two
years too late, but I still can't separate you and
Never will, I suppose,
but neither can you.
It should have been then, while
we still had something living to share, before
we had to share anything at all, before
we had to mean something to each other, before
it was only two
And there we were, you and me
Us three, and I don't know what you were
There may be aliensI was sitting at home todayThere may be aliens by constantron
In bed with my laptop;
And a headache,
Feeling particularly sorry for myself,
When I realised,
With a crawling feeling of horror,
That your computer was making noises.
And not just ordinary computer noises either:
Yes, it was
But this noise sounded rather a lot like something
Jumping up and down inside the machine.
I am fairly certain there are no other tenants in this room.
I'm sitting there in bed,
Staring at this jumping noise and trying to
Look down the dark behind your computer
For some kind of rodent or cockroach
And then the CD drive opened.
All on its own.
I'm afraid I must make the suggestion:
That thing you'll be terrified
(As I am)
To consider -
There may be aliens living inside your computer.