“Information Aged”

Sometimes, I wish the people I knew,

Had installed on their forehead,

A “Click Unsubscribe” tattoo.

Or, that CTRL+ALT+DELETE could erase you from me.

In a society contained in a handheld PC,

Exists such a calamity of intimacy.

Simply reduced to bits and bytes,

Apps collect data,

And trolls advertise.

Pop-up invaders soliciting time,

Tapping in vain,

The screen is too bright.

Compartments of trains,

Full of dull riders.

Fists of Wi-Fi,

Seeking providers.

Content provided,

Addiction replete.

Chasing the dragon,

With less battery.

Alone beside you,

No one interfaces.

As soulless expressions,

Adorn all our faces.

Connected isolation,

a bereft society.

Achieving its zenith,

In lieu of receipt.

Aged information,

Judgement is cloudy.

Technology’s sins,

A Faustian dowry.