The sky was weeping,
Her face stained black,
His fingers receding,
Down her back.
She pushes the grams,
To forget the time,
When Instragram,
Was not online.
He thinks back,
To the days of old,
Where they couldn't keep track,
Of one's household.
What an age,
Since the revolution,
Setting the stage,
For mass consumption.
Data snorted,
She fades away.
Stored and sorted,
For another day.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 6:15 AM UTC
The sky was weeping,
Her face stained black,
His fingers receding,
Down her back.
She pushes the grams,
To forget the time,
When Instragram,
Was not online.
He thinks back,
To the days of old,
Where they couldn't keep track,
Of one's household.
What an age,
Since the revolution,
Setting the stage,
For mass consumption.
Data snorted,
She fades away.
Stored and sorted,
For another day.
The technological age
