Solid, comforting pressure against sore ears,
Funnel music and sound effects into my conscious.
Creating a concert for myself,
I shout serenades,
For no-one is in the room.

As warm shoulders rest against a rolling chair,
Helpful hands hold a mechanical mouse,
Giving it instructions.

Colorful wires, memory chips, and motherboards,
Conduct neurons and cerebral cortex.
Clacking keyboards and clicking mice,
Are sensory motors.

Linked together, logging in hours of happiness,
Through long, lonely nights.
Thanks to a mind,
That thinks faster than mine.

Rebooting… …