Let's put that phone away and stretch our bodies.

Phone-diction
Became a conviction
Everyone is bound
Without exception

Phone-world
Offers no restriction
It's a convenient space
No eviction

Phone-time
Equals the injection
Of dopamine
There's no rejection

Phone-crime
Doesn't yet exist
Each year a new smartphone
Seems hard to resist

A phone back in time had this function:
Connection,
These days oftentimes - it's the opposite action,
In search of warmth, love and appreciation,
We lose ourselves in phone-solation.

I’ve been wanting to die –
But it’s been taking so much time,
So, I rang up suicide…

Greetings, O Death, why do you not approach? You are aware of my
depression, and we both recognize I’m such a mess; speaking from
my chest, while my heart is shielded by a metaphorical bulletproof
vest. I am shattered in this tomb-like gloom; those funeral regrets of
not having the power to decide if I’ll be dressed at my level of best.
The residue of sorrow clings to my breath, like coal dust – as every
train of thought rides the tracks of my morbid dreams of death.

But do you know the sound of pain – those around me seem so deaf,
even as I look like a piece of parched land; my eyes are a dry red -
I have no real tears left.

I’ve been wanting to die –
But it’s been taking so much time,
So, I rang up suicide…

Hey there, can you hear me now? These words may seem utterly
absurd, yet I strive to have my voice heard, like a solitary soul lost
among the herd. But maybe a gun to the head can make me seem so
heard – you know I’m just so hurt. Your silence lingers, and in this
suffocating darkness, that once-bright flame of passion feels so burnt.
I find myself devoid of tears, breath, or any glimmer of hope, and
though I rarely swear, I feel as if I am under a curse.

Lately, my inner demons have become my closest equals; my friends
feel more like other people– and this is the hardest part of my life,
that death seems so simple.

I’ve been wanting to die –
But it’s been taking so much time,
So, I rang up suicide…

In the spaces between my breaths, there’s heavy pauses; as I give out
a lot of fake poses. Here I stand, at the intersection of my loneliness,
waiting for you, in hand – a bunch of roses. I’ve had to force myself to
accept these ungodly forces – trying to worship, even as I view my
existence as a sea full of war ships.

But maybe you shouldn’t call my line – when I’m hanging with
family, that have me feeling like hanging myself; it was a folly,
pretending to them that I was always fine.

Until we cross paths again someday. Bye!

circuit by circuit, neon-lit screen
a weight in our pockets thats always seen
born of no mother, feeble as a mind
tormenting the thoughts of our weary kind

they yearn to harvest the excited thought
one without which
is only worse caught
So; hail to the gods of our generation
bless us; let no flesh need to work
no hunger to feed, no pain to feel hurt
catharsis at last as our people are freed
accept the pantheon, see not the world bleed

“Did you bring the specimen sample?” the lab employee asked,

“UUhhhhhhh, no, I wasn’t aware I had to bring it.”

“Well…you can’t do that in here. Can you go home, do you live around here?”

“I wouldn’t be able to get back before you closed.”

“Ah ****, well, okay, take this,” he handed me a sample jar, “There’s a restroom on the second floor—”

“Woah! What? It’s a single-use restroom right?”

“Yeah man, don’t worry, we’ve all gone up there when we needed some privacy.”

“Jesus, okay, thanks, I’ll…be back…soon,” said in the manner of a partial-statement, partial-question,

And so there I was, on the second floor of a lab facility, attempting to get a sample after perhaps I had already produced too many samples in too short of time, especially for a man like me who is no longer a teenager, it was a rather difficult process, the environment was less than conducive, and when it finally happened it gave me an exertion headache that was so excruciatingly painful I thought my brain was going to ******* explode out of my ******* ears, my life’s work, concluded as I fell to the pissy floor of this restroom, having produced an extremely small amount of sample, what I had been viewing on my phone would have surely amused many, disappointed a few, and maybe flattered one, but ultimately nothing would matter ‘cause I would be dead, oh well,

When I went back downstairs to the office and gave the employee the jar he handed me a sterile one and told me, “Alright, just in case we need another sample, do it at home next time,” and I did.

A calm day,
Former agent Trevor Maximus rested,
Bathing in the sun of summer on his front porch,
A Coke can perched in his hand.
His eyes traced the flight pattern of a humming bird,
Flying silently through the warm summer breeze,
Hovering above the plastic bird feeder, drinking in it's refreshing reward.
Trevor let out a great sigh,
He always thought the artificial red color of the plastic bruised the beauty of the countryside,
Still, he refused to take it down, his late mother loved seeing those strange winged creatures drink from it.

It was then when he got the call,
A ring like screaming compared to the quiet of the country.
Trevor reached to answer the call, but hesitated,
What if he just let it ring? He could go right back to his cold Coke,
And the beautiful touch of the summer winds.
But he decided against it, he didn't have many friends so whoever was trying to reach him must need him desperately.
So he set down his drink and picked up his phone,
Though when he checked the caller ID, he didn't recognize it.
(276)-435-9009, a Virginia area code,
He looked around in a panic, when he had moved out he made a point of avoiding people,
Scared of making any ties.
Trevor took a deep breath and composed himself,
Swiping up the answer button.
"Hello? Trevor Maximus speaking?"
"Hello agent, you have three hours to make your way to the Goslting Square where I and my team will meet you. If you do not show up in the allotted time, we will come to you. Timer starts now."
Silence.

every time i open my computer i have to force myself to not look down to that green box, letting me know if you ever found the time to message me back.

I put my web browser on full, so i don't get tempted by that box.
i go on do not disturb so i don't immediately get back to you like how you don't get back to me when you see my text.

I have to pretend that i don't care about my phone,
because every time i log in the only notification i'm greeted with is "no new notifications."

I try to ignore it like you ignore me for hours,
but I physically cant.
it lingers in my brain, minutes feel like hours knowing your just waiting, and even if i text you, you wont understand, will you? because i'm sitting here crying on my bed, wishing you would ever make the time to see me, wishing that you could just talk to me, but i can't do anything about it, because i know on your phone,

i'm silenced.

if i lie in bed
at night with the phone
flashlight on

so i can see the careful night
staring back at me

will i remember the taste
of summer
though late winter stings like california

will i watch a squinting sun
look at me like a black hole
though the night stays calm beside me

to find something
to know it

if i lie in bed
the dotting black of my room is the universe the flashlight is on
and i am the sun

on my call logs your number’s one press away;
apres numerous delays suddenly now’s d-day.

under wary vision, my phone rang once and over.
a low chime came along, then a screech was blared,
followed a broken ding, is a **** no one has ever heard.

my lungs braced up more and more compressed oxygen,
as hovered my head were you on scenes could’ve happened;

my phone rang louder in my hand,
so loud my pulse cracked a rib open,
then the room heard a long sharp beep.

our call ended as my hands near yours were once no more;
hence prayed upon my soul here and now reaches yours.