i've been off the grid for some time now
even deleted my Facebook account
and all that's left when you search for me
is my mugshot from 2003

i guess i'm just a criminal
nothing to show to the eyes of the world
but I don't care about
proving myself to you

i look around me and all i see
are people looking down at cellphone screens
how many more deaths' by selfie will there be?

i guess i'm just too cynical
nothing to show to the eyes of the world
but i don't care about proving myself to you

Birdbox
                by Amoy

I live on your social acceptance of me
You keep my face buried, my eyes blind and my mind occupied
You draw me in, I loose myself, trying to find myself
I can't hear the birds chirp, I can't see the sunrise
You are always here but yet I'm afraid and I’m alone
The happiest people living their "best lives" surrounds me
Telling me to see, telling me I need to be apart of it
Don't you want to be like me?
Live feeds, Status updates
Selfies, likes
Love me, don't scroll without a comment
Live streams, fake news, fake friends
Program-me, I need your feeds
It's not just a movie, it's real life get a clue

I
Got a notice
On the freaking
Facebook
That a piece of embarrassing
Art
Went viral
That I did not
Want to
Is like Ebola
Now everyone
Thinks that I
Madly in love
With the Dalai Lama.
I am a loser.  
Embarrassing.

Like a freak
Ostrich
I try to stick my
Pretty face
In a hole
And breaks
My **** nose.
Ouch!!!
Fidget spinner!!!!
Embarrassing.


Then fumbled
With dinner
And the food
Goes
Flying
Because of art
And
Broken nose
Flying at my
Dad.
****
Embarrassing.

It is your childhood bestie on Facebook,
Miles away,
Yet just a tap away.
It's the sun shining from behind the clouds
On December mornings
While you work your *** off on your laptop
In bed in your 4-BHK apartment.
It is the soap bubble that bursts
Just with your one glance
Because memories are fragile.
They aren't made of hearts of stone
And kinetic sand.
They're made of soft toys
And fur animals.
Nostalgia is the balloon-seller you whizz by
At the traffic signal
Every morning.
It is the sweetness of strawberries
That falls drop by drop,
on your tongue,
That has forgotten to taste.
It is a subtle symphony that coffee plays
That only you can smell
Every evening.
It is the obedient smile that dances on your lips for a while
But fades away
As the smoke of dead habits take over.
It the closed window behind the curtains,
The forgotten post-its on the fridge,
The giggles trapped shut in between the pages of ******,
It is the withered rose on the tombstone
And the eulogy never spoken.
It is a teary-eyed laughter
In vacuum.
It is happy faces
In a photo frame.
It is the dictionary in a sentence,
Not something that can fit into a stance.

Facebook gave us a new look
Addicted to reading people's lives
Forgetting that we have ours to problematize

Messenger connected us to strangers
Being indulged in chatting with them
Dis-remembering those people,
People that are not virtual,
People that you have to catch up to

Twitter lets it all out,
Our problems, our thoughts, our whines, our woes
But while using twitter, you overlooked those around you
Those who're willing to listen to you
Those who can actually help you

Instagram lets us share photos with our loved ones
Photos where everyone looked delighted and felicitous
Photos that are pretentious
Only on photos do they seem happy
But in real life, they're constantly neglecting,
Neglecting and taking each other for granted

Why do we let social media measure our worth?
Is it really worthy?
Is it really that worthy to be connected to those who are far from you,
While sacrificing those people you love who are near you?

I found your face
On Facebook
Hard to believe
I was ever there
The landscape
Is fuzzy
Through the fog
Your profile is
So faded, there are
new wrinkles
Around your mouth
Under your eyes
Wisdom lines
Gathered during our
togetherness

Your eyes still seer with
Every look, yet that look
Seeks not to find my soul
Whatever you saw
One look was enough
What you saw
was too mild, or wild
Or too jagged

Hidden in this box of memories
Are pieces of you
Musty reminders
some invigorating
some good
Mostly gone

The downward momentum is clear to me now.
The engine has built up a full head of steam.
I’d try to stop it, if I knew how.

The fires of industry must burn on somehow;
they tend to burn brightest when fuel is extreme.
The downward momentum is clear to me now.

When currents are surging, we shouldn’t allow
the jingoist fringe to swim in the mainstream.
I’d try to stop them, if I knew how.

Civility means more than I can avow,
but poems can only allude to a theme:
The downward momentum is clear to me now.

Each click of a mouse that shouts holier than thou
is a cog in a treacherous clockmaker’s scheme.
I’d try to stop him, if I knew how.

We worshipped the circuit and forsook the plow
in search of a false technological dream.
Our downward momentum is clear to me now.
I’d try to stop us, if I knew how.