She was in the knowing stage of being ****
Which, a century ago would be alluring
Making her mysterious and marveled, elusive
Taboo even
In this aweless, lawless digital wasteland
She was relegated to the position of commoner
A trillion, trillion pixels of poses
Not for posterity, no
More for posturing
More for positioning herself for
Instafication
Sordidly salivating as the counter clicked
Ever higher the number of persons
She didn't even like, pretending
To like her
And her
Hy-Pro
Framed low
Dreamy glow
Her self-esteem a public offering
Tethered to the hope of approval
From whomever happened to be
Wandering through the matrix
Worthiness rising and crashing
In a virtual tide of comments
Affirming her value
She cherished no secrets
Publishing her imbecilic itinerary
Instantly alerting the word
To her geographic location accompanied
With acronyms and emoticonceited hieroglyphs
Whose absurdity will baffle
Future generations of anthropologists
Should there be any living
Who will be interested in studying humanity
Once it's gone?
Who will find the fortitude
To glance away from the machine screen?
Will she be reluctant to escape her avatar
For something tangible?
The polished filtered flesh
She mistakes for her reality
Is an unending string
Of ones and zeroes
Fewer ones
An ever expanding mass of zeroes