There are two realities we choose to inhabit
The one in real time and the one suspended in virtual reality.
Aided by the ping of IMs
The scrolling feed of photoshopped landscapes
The stream of simplified consciousness
The endless swiping of chiseled bodies and imploring faces…
The images and messages we copy and save and download and delete -
Our lifeline of ones and zeros
Transformed before our tired eyes on little screens
Appears brighter and louder and more easily accessible than the space we inhabit
In a time slowly ticking away in a series of brief and passing moments.

Nobody has patience for real time
Where leaves darken and redden with passing seasons
Eventually withering and crumbling to dust.
Where the bright crimson **** is accompanied by a sharp pain
That lingers dully for days after the wound has puffed and the skin has laced itself back together.
And the burning emptiness that accompanies the silence
Throbs heavily in your chest long after the silence has been filled.
Nobody wants to gaze at an unchanging landscape
Long enough to notice the life in every swaying tree, every flying insect, every speeding car, every lonely passerby.
Or trace the path of light cast by the sun as it slowly moves its shadow over the steady scene.
People don’t care to stare into their partner’s eyes
Long and hard
In those moments of lapsed conversation.
Discovering insecurities and fears they had not realized were there. Needs and desires chewed, swallowed, and spit out as yesterday’s Instagram caption.

While we pose and polish and edit and post
Our hair grows longer
Our ears grow dimmer
Our minds grow duller
But the screen glows brightly.
And the likes accrue
And the friends multiply.

Maybe someday our headstones will be inscribed with our number of
Followers
Friends
And Connections -
Validating and memorializing our virtual reality.  
But beneath the earth
Our bodies will still be slowly decaying
Under the building sediment
Churning organisms
And passing of real time.