Home
Prose
Music
Poetry
Journal
Wish List
P.A.I.N
Infinite Crises
|
|
Monday, December 3, 2001
|
She's put a hex on me and I cannot escape
From RAMming my hard drive into her gate.
So upon the hash table I plug in my pipe
And toggle her interface for most of the night.
I byte her flip-flops and buffer her bug.
She air-cools my dongle and balances my log.
She compliments my bit depth and my bandwidth,
As I query her system and our overdrive shifts.
"That's the right sector!" she loudly broadcasts,
And all over my laptop her packet bursts fast.
Now her portal's all GUI and her signal is weak,
And my wide SCSI drive is ready to leak.
She makes a request that I dump my core
On her back-end heap and in her game port.
So I reboot her chassis and output my load,
Then we crash in a stack and whisper sweet code.
And so goes the loop of our data transfer,
For I am the slave and she is the master.
|
|
|
© 2007 sylvanelf.com
|
|
|