And so We remained transfixed,

slowly asphyxiating.

Our staring bright eye gaze,

drowning complacency.

Soundless, visual noise

injected directly

through Our minds’ eye.

Penetrating dreams,

derailing trains of thought,

stuffing Our ears with

white static cotton balls.

The cogs of imagination

missing teeth


punched out,

and World Builders laid off.


No more heads in clouds

instead, held in hands.

Glowing rectangle heads

vampirically downloading.

The bedrock of poetry

steadily eroding.


Photo by Kasra Assadian on Unsplash

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