After his midday feasting his tiredness grows,
So the weary web wizard rests his tiny toes,
He slips into a dreamland of zeros and ones,
He’s plugged into the Matrix, it’s where he belongs.
Dreaming sweat dreams of promises and loops,
Writing sequel statements, creating user groups,
Fiddling with proxies, grep-ing here and there,
He kills a process, it’s all done with care.
But sometimes the nightmares start to creep in,
The darkness awakes and begins to scare him,
He worries of security holes and accessibility,
The state of a server, its overall stability.
Team members who turn out to be similar to the last,
Potential Flat Earthers with opinions from the past,
Social media is Cancer and the vaccine’s not right,
They don’t like the office, they stay out of sight.
Will Chino’s run out of the dishes he loves,
A beef cob, a chicken wrap, sent from above,
If the dishes he desires are no longer there,
It is student shop shit, from the bottom of the stairs.
Waking from his slumber, he wipes the dribble away,
Sock returned to pocket, he begins the rest of his day,
His tiny little toes, take him back to his chair,
Where he sits, invigorated, he sorts out his hair.
Once this is done, he’ll fix some more bugs,
Drink some more coffee, three or four mugs,
He’ll be perky now, he’ll code really quick,
The sex cupboard snooze, has done just the trick.
