Invisibly I
Glide through throngs who are
Enraptured by phones

Invisibly I
Glide through throngs who are
Enraptured by phones
They infest me, burrow through
My skin, prey on my peace of
Mind, leaving me hollowed out.
Break me open and feast on
My substance, for I am so
Desecrated, empty, dead.
Mind speaks through us, not
To us, a symphony or
Cacophony, as
Insane, chaotic
As the world soul itself.
All contradiction.
For those who can hear
My music, a single chord
Arouses the most
Powerful feelings.
Fear, hate, love, depravity,
Your sympathies are
My symphony. You are puppets
To my every whim.
Lost in the woods on
My morning jog, I found my
Way and returned home.
But everything had
Changed. My cherished wife was now
My foe, having been
Instructed on the great
Litany of my wrongs by
Some unknown scribe. She
Viewed me askance, and
All my efforts to engage
Were thwarted. Broken,
Dissolute, the streets
I wandered until
The beat of some infernal
Drum summoned me to
March, in a crowd of
Damned like me. We followed the
Rhythm, to our doom.
What if the core of
My personality is
But sentient fungus
Playing at being
A man? And what would it take
To change all of it?
Somebody please stop
Me. I don’t know how. I could
Do something evil.
I’d be programmed to
Love who, when, where I should and
Then I’d still love you.
Witness these creatures
And their dilapidated
State. Is this God’s will?