Screen Time
nothing eerie
orchestrated the day
when such luminosity
did not exist.
lead and ink
scraped thoughts into position,
heavy
with marrow and blood.
we fixate now
on our new stylus,
as it smears our gaze
with a lurid lacquer,
and watch ourselves
without knowing
as we chase will-o’-wisps
toward dawn.
harnessed
by the ghost fabric
of such false life,
without insight or recognition,
we feed all that we can
into a pale future,
heartbeats on tap
for the motherboard.
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