suffering through
technical difficulties
spasmodically frustrated
in inconceivable dismay
tethered by these
faulty mechanisms
lost in the static of
ones and zeros drifting
into infinity
our entire existences
uploaded to a cloud
on the verge of sudden
inconsolable sadness
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
I like this lament. Alas, the cloud. The invention of the home computer was supposed to bring a computer, self-contained into the home, and out of the laboratory where it used to be room size and unavailable to the ordinary person. It was supposed to have enough memory to do everything at home without assistance, and with enough storage. That was the original dream. Not anymore. Now we can’t own our own memory… Inconsolable sadness comes when there is no check digit for pi and the one oscillates in another dimension of hexes and binary curses.
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