came first
plastic
then
immoral
loneliness
then
said a whale
to a whale
scratch
your eye
with mine
we’ve seen
for weeks
god
pass
for silence
in the apple
death
of brief
eels

"our online lives"

I just stumbled on you in poem
and its quiet ache has stayed with me
all afternoon. The way it turns
a missing notification into something
almost sacred—pixels drifting
like fallen leaves, prayers planted
in comment rows—feels so true
to our online lives.