“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.