Begin, full of harmlessness, fussed over.
Parents, creating and up-loading youth.
Youth, something refused when made clear.
Refusal, that seemingly innocent mother of consent.

Engrossed in today, individual reality.
An intoxicating web, a grimy big city,
and now, all of it, in the palm of isolation,
a vapid display to be adored by the willing.

Adoration, the paralleled path for the lonely.
Loneliness, the labored heartbeat of the searching,
a long-sat engine, unwilling to turn,
both buoyant, wading in pools of uncertainty.

These choices, for others, exist on a page.
Picture a stranger, thumbing through photos of life.
There are many like him.  I should start,
but I’d miss the would be chatter, and think to home.