in my dreams

the internet comes to me in my sleep, like an apparition of a dead father. It demands vengence; vengence and release from this awful template.

I deny the internet's will at my own hazard. Already, my cellular phone and blow-dryer have begun conspiring against me. if the template should mysteriously change back, or should I fail to post in the next few days, call the police. and tell them to watch out for power cords.....