Sterility of my screen scares me. I let its shiny light collude with particles of grey dust. It screams me. Shall I too wear my keyboard buttons so the white letters are finally creamy. I let this machine dream me. And to its nightmare I'll wake up. Hundreds of stories stir me. I am made to caress them or they me. I am made to embrace them, tame me. But I can't fight for, but fix them; I have no means but to type them drown; I am a menace, I am a threat. I'd let them break the wrap, I'd ask myself to be let.
Sterility of my screen scares me. I let its shiny light collude with particles of grey dust. It screams me. Shall I too wear my keyboard buttons so the white letters are finally creamy. I let this machine dream me. And to its nightmare I'll wake up. 
