Ode to little black digit box

Is that your phone?
Exclaims the 100th being this week
Yes, this is my phone
Eternal source of disappointment
But it allows me to speak
To be heard.
Ever waiting in the wings
It’s existence is futile
No built in distraction.
These buttons and numbers
Do not inspire a reaction.

I am ready for a life
With no void, no lulls
No reason to stare blankly
Into rectangular portals.

Yes, this is my phone
Ineffectual, functionless
But it reminds me there is life beyond the lens
No record, no camera
No gateway to lifeless faces
Staring infinitely into a fragile glass abyss
The lonely virtual playground
Where virtually nothing exists
No camera, no record
This moment is mine alone
no internet, no intent
to connect
To realms beyond,
and disconnect me from
Human, mineral, fire, water, animal.

Published by


writer, musician, artist, joiner

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