inanity, gorging idiotic exposed,
scrolling themselves through the moronic tweets at dawn
searching for a boring fix,
artisanal hipsters yearning for the asinine hellish
connection to starry celebrities in the machin-
ery of trite,
who politics and hot takes and follow-eyed and why sat
up vaping in the preternatural darkness of
social media profiles floating across the tops of cities
contemplating nothing,
who barred their brains from functioning and
saw Mozillan angels fading into the inter
net abyss excoriated,
who passed through institutions with vacant dead eyes
plagiarizing America and Shakespeare-like tragedy
among the scholars of more,
who were admitted to companies for stupid and
publishing insane odes on the screens of the
numbskulls,
who lowered into unspoken rooms in outerwear, burn-
ing their eyes in cell phones and listening
to the Error through the wifi,
who got disgusted in their public beards returning through
Facebook with a meme of idiocy for Instagram,
who ate facts in quaint motels or drank Snapchat in
infernal valleys, meth, or multistoried their
condos flight after flight
with screams, with rugs, with woke nightmares, al-
mighty and TikTok and pointless takes,
incomprehensible unkind clicks of doddering crowd and
interference in the mind buzzing toward poles of
Democrat & Republican, surging all the kil-
terless world of Time between,
who climbed atop rickety soapboxes for the
endless pontification from the Battery to the Bronx
hopped up on adderall and Dim Sum,
who stared all night into the glowing light of Steve Jobs’
creation and waited for someone to answer or
someone to provoke,
who talked continuously about headlines they skimmed but
articles they would never read,
who vanished into the abyss believing what the planet
needed most now was another podcast,
who wandered around parks at midnight looking for a
worthy intellectual opponent, human or rodent,
canine or avian,
who wandered between the thoughts of others without
ever once forming their own opinions,
who repeated slogans about slogans about slogans about slogans
to prove their purity in the face of skepticism,
who kept up with a Jones of the dope scripture because nothing
on TV could hold their attention anymore,
who conspired to come up with theories about recent events
in history and their personal life,
who paraded across different platforms in search of meaning
and joy despite the constant march of vitriol,
who felt a sense of peace and tranquility when surrounded by
unending vituperations,
who became much dumber over the years and less generous
from the person who graduated eighth grade,
who lost their grip on reality with each click and let the clammy
palm of convenient half-truths provide solace,
who accused old friends of terrible things and gave new friends
unearned compliments,
who howled into their built-in laptop cameras whenever they
were on mute,
who didn’t know what they were so angry about but couldn’t stop
fighting,
who bought things from fools that weren't for sale and
gave them away for a big profit,
who weren't happy but couldn't stop doing the same thing
again and again and again and again,
who felt the warm glow of a mid-afternoon book burning and
all-day character assassination,
who piled onto things they couldn’t begin to understand but
were compelled to join,
who would've been comfortable at Salem during those hot
nights of fiery rage,
who missed out on life and sunny days and cloudy days and rain days
and sunsets and sunrises and wind storms and thunderclaps and
full moons and half moons and gibbouses and crescents and
shooting stars but had more and more unspoken wishes,
who forgot the smell of a fireplace and freshly cut grass and
hot pretzels and hot dogs and hot nuts,
who couldn’t hear the sound of an Ice Cream truck and a sant-
itation truck and church bells and overhead planes and
singing and laughing and talking,
who wasted their time and ours,
and for what again?
No comments:
Post a Comment