Under the cut is a short poem about why computers and a sedentary lifestyle are bothering me more and more.
Who is flying off to the world of toys?
Who has to wait quietly?
With their nose buried in fluffy pillows?
To love, hope, dream
That our real world will return
Into whose virtual world through the window?
And the peach will break through the night with a shoulder
Through the captivity of illusions into a man’s house?
So whose PC amusements
have made someone old for good?
Whose behind has become too heavy?
Whose dick won't stand up finally?
Work has burned me to dust
I'm tired of CADs and CAE
You have turned into coal
Crap from Steam games.
And why are we not sleeping together?
Once we were husband and wife.
Whose song is fading into blandness?
Whose mind has hardened like crust?
Who is to blame? What to do next?
In short, give me your computer.
Let it fly through the glass like plywood
Info on all games and software.
© AlexKaz 25 May 2019
Kilde: habr.com
