Every late night dreary
As I post, weak and weary
Many a memes of dogs and more
"I should go to sleep" I say
"it's ******* four"

They used to say “yes” or “no”
And you would know where to go.
Now life is complicated, they say they don’t know
Fearful of mistakes, everyone is vague and slow.
They just look up at the sky…(where the info “cloud” is?)
Not looking you in the eye.
Of most things everyone seems so unsure.
The answer to most questions is “e…er…e-er…”
If you can, you will look it up online:
However, there is no Sat-Nav or sign;
“Answers” pop up from every direction…
Follow your nose at your own discretion!
Interpret it at your own risk…
Everything is just hit and miss!
Hours later, forgetting what you are looking for –
Each person, his own expert (according to the law…),
You feel tired and completely drained,
Like a Dalek has sizzled your brain.
Your initial enthusiasm is gone and energy, too.
All you can whisper, weakly, are two meaningless words, “Boo…hoo…!”

Dear trolls,
Just so you know, your comments don't mean much.
You think you know something to be true.
Well hate to break it to you, but you're wrong.
Everything you think you know is way off base.
I thought I should let you know.
We do this for entertainment sake.
So be confused but don't hate.

Sincerely,
Bexis

P.S. This is a poetry site not Facebook it should be about the art.

P.S.S I like tacos

P.S.S.S Hi!

And now there would come a time
a swift sharp clock on the bed
Blaring its little chime in between the hard bells
Like an angry little arm
Charming if not for the alarm

And everyday I slap the face of it
Like an unwanted *****
And she is silenced
Quick unlike
Said chick

But I am a cruel guy and have no sense of wet and dry
Nor cool or heat
There's nothing bothering me

Time just ticks off and I laugh at it

But my cells divide and turn into little old protoplasmic men
And yet I am not called upon them
Because they are stupidly designed and I have no sympathy for arts and crafts
No masterman
who failing to raise his hand
Clams up
With such poor artwork

Slap that ***** in the dilapidated sistan

Now In San Francisco
Where the alley streets stink of ***
And the European facades are just that
Crumbling
Poopy
And full of ****
And what yet are they dreaming to be?

The church that survived fire
Great conflagration
God didn't make a rainbow at the end of that,
Now did he?

He's a water-sign
Dolt
And water only jolts your mind
When it scatters true light,
Ain't that right?

But it's all the same
Just different hues
And the news
Isn't new
Just Blaring and yelling
And speeding television crews
Riding their stories
Up and down the many stories
Trying to build a city of angels
On a bituminous hill

Shills

No life skills

And I walk the city streets with a ugly old leather
Brief
Casing the joints and rolling my own
Unhappy and alone
Kerouac and the dreams on the monangular input where the triangular avenues meet
And he has no road

While airplanes shake their jets on the tarmac and trebuchet into the air
Going god knows where
Seeing a new piece of the sculpted pinball
Perpetually trapped in the machine

How bout Nippon
Or Hangujin
Or Han Chinese
Or Berlin
Anywhere but when
A little ways along the state
Of "in"

All these strange things

Plusnet I hate you
You’re customer service is dire
You just tell me lies
I want to set you on fire

I’m no arsonist
But it’s been nearly a month
And still no flaming WiFi
Now I’ve really got the ****

And I know all about humps
As I was recently on a camel
And through that I’ve learned to hiss and spit
And p**s like these unruly mammals

I’ve conquered sand dunes
On the back of these beasts
And shall take you down too
If you persist giving me beef

Should’ve been last week
Now it’s going to be next
Stop moving the goal posts!
Can’t you see how I’m vexed?!

You say there’s a fault
On my line
That YOU disconnected
Then CHARGED me a fine!

You won’t refund me
Until it’s all been fixed
But fix it you can’t
You complete and utter *****!

I’ve spoken to OFFCOM
About my complaint
And drafted a letter
That clearly states

What berk’s you are
What incompetent buffoons!
To allow me to be slammed
Then rub salt into my wounds!

By making me pay
For the service I haven’t got
It’s laughable really
But I kid you not

So the saga continues:
I’m disconnected still
Hope you enjoyed the sequel
But to live I’m losing the will

It’s nice to see you again.
You’re always a click away.
I did a thing today.
Will you like it for me right away?
I see you found a new hobby,
you post a link that I copy,
and I like it,
because I like you.

I share my new piece,
take a look at your niece,
you seem happy and it puts me at peace.
But I’m stuck...
I’ve signed a new lease.
Look at this photo, I’ve used new hair grease.
You like it,
and I think it means you like me.

You fall in love and I like
that picture of you and them on that hike;
it feels like I’m with you all the time,
but this bond is only as strong
as our connection to Wi-Fi.

I’ve lost some friends but I deflect
by sharing songs to connect,
but these prevailing thoughts interject:

I’m all alone.
It’s just the screen,
and me.

I look at likes like they’re currency
and I’m currently
using poetry -
a writer’s diplomacy -
to scream “woe is me!”
but I bet you can see
right through me,
can’t you?

My digital friend,
where did this begin,
and where does it end?
Are we bound to do this dance
‘till we’re echoes of dust,
or call it like it is:
you and me, we’re just...

I can’t.

You post a picture.
I like it,
because I like you.