It's not something I'm very proud of
but I feel less guilty
when I know I'm not the only one

There are others
but I don't know their names,
I don't know where they stay,
and certainly remain ignorant of
their personal pleasures and intimate pains

We're all in this together
but on our own
in constant motion;
petrified from the tip of the iceberg
down to the floor of the unknown

Is shame real?

Or did we built this atrocity together?

Our ancestors had the best intentions

After survival, what comes next?

The rational decision making,
the fragile economy, bastardized standards
and capsizing traditions; and it's as though
we keep asking,

no,

pleading for more of it

Almighty silent search bar
answer all of my questions,
direct me through this
neon wilderness, guide me
with your fluorescent light;
north, south, and every which
way between...

I am guilty of nothing

I left living in your hands
and it's become a complicated design;
mistaken for a binary fairytale;
an illusion of flawless bells and whistles

Sign me up, an elegant scribble
like a mouth dribble, along the
dotted line

Modernity
is malnourishment
pristine

It was never something I was proud of
never something I asked for, but questioned
constantly is this right, is this wrong, is this normal
is this healthy?

Look up, look up, look up,
Define me

We're all in this together,

But on our own, as though

doors never open

and windows stay shut.