Fun Theory

You called to reinvent
The flow, the incessant,
Our pleasantries without the closed screen.

While back before, the happy humours thinned,
(And could channel below our expressions)
A turn against gravity's pump,
A pulse past the pallor.

Here, take: we control our nightly mutation.
Be glad,
We turn to spiritual spit.
Make room, we're about to start the static
forgetful pressure as gods.