The glass is smooth but smudged,
the automatic click of yes or no
inside my mind, the tick
goes off, nothing I think,
but fingers glide
across the screen
regardless of what
anybody really means
or wants.

There is no whole to be a part of,
nor are we one whole on our own,
no spectrum showing measures
of ourselves exists
that accurately lists
our follies and the ways they came to be,
the things we did and sought,
how we succeeded, failed and fought
through times of pressure
soldered to our heels.

The yes or no, swipe left or right,
is surface to the person
in your palm you hold.
It's valuable insight
we seek to know,
not murky glass between
two pools of depths unknown.