Death waits inside me
To remind me that for every breath
A price for life
Is to feel worthless sometimes
It’s been a long time, WordPress. But I’m back and I’ve written a LOT since I last saw you. I’ve kept you a stranger for so long. It’s time to catch up. People, subscribe if you liked this poem or if you would like to read my newer styles of wordplay. I may also discuss my mental health and life experiences.
“I’m destroying the bridge to the person
That has been destroying me,” were the words
She shared with ensnared Instagram followers,
Plucked from one of a million content providers,
The ones literally begging for shares and likes,
Analytics that taste nice but leave them hungrier.
I digress, my attention span, my focus on the here,
Has dropped dramatically the last five or so years,
As my addiction to social media took over,
Defining my worth by likes has made me colder,
Less empathetic and hyper self-aware,
All part of the package baby, the digital era’s here!
Feeling lonely, worthless, suicidal or lost?
There’s an app for that, download it at once!
I’ve Grown impatient with dated convention,
Almost as much as with people displaying
A lack of knowledge for convention at all,
Yet writing “Atypical” on their bio on their blogs,
And spitting snobbery at the labor of their peers,
Ah, typical, I suppose that’s me?
Typical Timmy needs to learn his place,
Give up the craft and worship your face?
But back to my story,
She shared that picture….
And I just stared,
And wondered if ever
I said or did
A thing to destroy,
In a simple case
of girl texts boy.
We’d met and kissed,
Flirted and laughed,
We said we’d meet
Again next chance,
We texted again,
Flirted some more,
But on the day to meet,
She ceased rapport.
No word for days from her phone or facebook,
But her twitter was active, so no deadly fate
Had befallen her, thankfully, and yes I was worried,
T’was that suddenly she’d ended our story.
But I left it there,when she shared the picture,
No good can come of this particular stranger
Pushing myself through blocks of text,
Demanding likes, love, respect.
A bot bombed the scene. Dropping comments in comment sections. Saying “Look at me, I learned this lesson, now my funds have no recession.” Suspicious they were, as most would be. They rained upon it with mockery. Linking pics, memes of the season, poking jokes at “feeble” readers: “None have thread the spider’s web as adeptly as we three. The spam will offer hollow hopes, an hour for easy money. Promises snaring novices, obvious as trolling sprees. Let it lure them in, let them feel what its like be eaten.”
“How easily the victim’s blamed,” I thought as I watched them talk. As if they were gods of guile, never led on a walk by a weaves of code or a grand show. Be it here or far, someone’s charmed. It’s worked before, it’ll work some more. The Trojan horse of Troy rearranges the splinters of its mane, the colour of its hooves, engravings on its face. And searching new places, it lays the trap. Is welcomed in and sucks the sap.
But is this bot just typing a lie? Perhaps it’s a vision of life in that line of work. It might be spamming other sections, receiving comments from other jesters. How quick we are assume the worst. What if…. hmmm, you know what? I better stop. I think it’s working.
If boredom’s what ails ya, time for a cure,
By fishing the ocean from digital shores,
Sure it’s got sharks, and blowfish besides,
But every now and then a tide
Will bring a fish with purple scales,
Emerald hues on a humpback whale, Continue reading
Brush the dust, release the thought,
Let it sink to the pit of the waters maw,
And the bones of meals that snag the fin,
May they fall to black for others to win.
If I drink the water, bring the blue in,
It will twist the mind to a slow ruin,
Tar the last of the prettier innards,
And all the will to swim will wither.
For another fish I sang a verse,
And the chorus slashed again my nerves;
The message of air, gliding to the surface,
Silent, but clear in its purpose,
It led my eyes to a hazy other,
The wind, the sky, the lights of summer,
Where birds must fly, free and at home
In their time, fleeing a lonely shore.
But back to the daily, back to the blues,
Where all that lives is a life to lose,
So eyes forward, watching for movement,
On to the next meal, and more music.