Dreary Servitude

The sound of incessant,
touch of the keyboard,
akin  to the sweet,
harmony of a
stream tumbling down,
became the lullaby
The bright orange flashing,
of the chatterbox gizmo,
made my dreams colorful,
The manuscript filled with rows
and columns uploaded,
in the aperture morphs
itself into armament
of destruction,
the circadian pace
convention,adds
macabrish feature
to the nightmare,
jerking me awake
from it, only to realize
that i wasn't dreaming,
but living my life,
the life of an,
impassionate ITan