Into the Metaverse

This is what I'd consider a "journal poem"--written in the heat of the Muse's strike and has had little if any editing done as of yet.

I've almost lost it once, so I'm posting it here, for safe keeping. :)


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Into the Metaverse

Through bloodshot eyes and caffiene-trembled fingers
black letters, symbols, appear on the screen,
not quite knowing what will come next--
what emotion will spring forth
expressing itself through a still face
a visage of ivory, emerald eyes
pixel-painted lips
somehow holding the sacred river
that is myself.
What is this new music I create?
This reality that--isn't?
Swirling, whirling, churling
the dance goes on,
prims and pixels meeting,
colliding and mingling--
the wild throb of a vessel
torn from reality,
placed into a captured dream.
What is reality, anymore?
We are but a world away from spirit,
a shimmer, glimmering somewhere
deep in the mind's eye,
shadows of eons past,
the servants of that eternal sleep
awaken and play themselves out
through scripts and streams
pulling my source onto the screen,
seeming so much closer
and yet, further away.