I grind my teeth
Hearing the clicks
What are these cords?
Puzzling with all these words
It seems alienitic
They say I am hand picked
To use such things
No! not the ringtones
Take it away and leave me alone
Stop making me act like a clone
These machines make me crazy
My brains and bones growing hazy
They not mine not my own
How am I here in this time zone
It's suppose to be 500 B.C
And here I am sitting next to a P.C
Hail God! get me out of here
I fear my end, I fear I am nowhere
I'm getting insane, I am haunted by phobia
The trouble I get in, is through this techo gear
Year by year they send me here
To examine my head cause I am a lunatic
A crazy being over used brain, a phobiatic
No pain just systematically down insane
A shot and a dramatic labelled in vain
Technophobia was the tag
And again they let me out of this bag!


©sim