Dulcet words, drifting silent through the telephone line.
To descry and practice palmistry, see their heart line.

5:15, waiting, stuck in the post office again.
Checked my phone for attention, clocked out from work's confines.

Work to stave off hunger, stressing, a chore filled weekend.
monotonous, chugging to stay out of the bread lines.

Stuck with that tension, heavy textbooks, and starved checkbooks
We tap their name to call, to consider our repine.

Driving down the sunset laden road, running from home.
The clicks, dings of texts, newfound mistakes breath down my spine.

I gaze through the traffic, road signs, iconographic
Each full up on luck, until the cop provides his fine

So attached to these devices, our lives caught on screens.
Should we take it for granted, just part of His design?


The struggling reach out hands, from the bottom of their heap,
Their system, quite the firm one, no room for our opine.

Some believe their dreams, are in government powerpoints,
others forget dreams, spend time praying on the divine.

How can they keep their comfort, while wishing all that ill,
To die without a purpose, is that what they enshrine?

"Oh Nathan, why bother waiting for nothing to change?",
I scoff, a tear falls, as I reach to hang up the line.