My lover and I, we’re super intimate.
I trust him and he trusts me.
I know the password to his phone,
Like I know his face in a crowded a room.

The intricate pattern of a square,
It’s lines firm and final.
The journey of my finger,
Across the coolness of the screen.

I dig my hand inside his coat pocket,
My fingers searching for the feeling that I know so well.
The feeling of cold metal, a chip in the corner,
And a crack in the glass.

I frown as instead my hand comes across a matte phone case,
And the crack in the glass that my finger searches for is instead a smooth screen.
My fingers wrap around the device, still warm from its use,
And my heart stammers as I see that it is not the run down htc that I am holding.

It’s a new phone.

A new and better phone is laying in my hand,
It’s screen blank but its venom lethal.
My fingers scurry to unlock my lover’s iPhone that he had never mentioned,
But there is no square pattern and I am instead faced with numbers that hold no sense.

Why did my lover need a new phone?
Was his old one broken?
Had he grown tired of the cracks or how it’s battery would drain in a matter of minutes?
Or was he simply attracted to a new, shiny phone with it’s bigger screen and fancy case?

Why hadn’t my lover told me about this new phone?
Did he not know the bounds to my love - I could love a different phone,
But I couldn’t love two.
Did he love two phones? Could he not decide which he preferred?
Was this phone a temporary fix or a replacement?

My shaky hands turn the screen of the phone which mocked me so cruelly black,
And I slipped the phone back into it’s hiding place.
My hands don’t then search for the old htc,
Maybe it’s because I might not find it, or maybe it’s because it didn’t matter if I did.

My generation was born in the age of technology.
We don’t know how to communicate without our phones or computers.
"You have to disconnect in order to connect with one another. Put down the technology and connect with the soul."
I have learned that if you just sit down with someone, you can learn so much.

“A friend talks to you. A good friend listens.” I am a good friend.
Before phones friends would sit under a tree and talk for hours.
That’s what this world needs.
Proper communication.

When I’m with Dakota, we put our phones in our bags.
We sit there and talk or enjoy each others company.
We stopped ourselves from becoming these internet addicted zombies.
We have learned to become human.

A society of replicas march
heads bowed.
Feet that grind heavy over concrete ground.
To admire their deity,
with empty smiles
Lives on trial.
Lives in denial.

From people to clothes
movies and shows
Communication stripped vacant of what we all know.

A society of replicas march
heads bowed.
feet that grind heavy over concrete ground.
Robbed of beauty.
Blind to earth.
but what is there to see,
when all you see is dirt?

A society of replicas march
heads bowed.
Feet that grind heavy over concrete ground.
eyes magnetized to their devices,
pulling their faces to their vices.
With glossy eyes
fueled by bitter lies
internalized to home.
But still to claim
no better relationship,
Than between man and phone.

Don’t know how it started,
or if it’ll ever end,
some call it Samsara,
others call it trends,

watched a video on YouTube,
Mac Miller in bed with Ariana Grande,
Mac died last week from an OD/suicide,
after Ariana got engaged to another man,

then I Googled this,
“**** photos of Ariana Grande”,
what’s the matter with me why does everything lead,
to having my thing in my hand,

swear to God YouTube is the Devil,
got me to watch screens,
used to have more freedom,
because I didn’t own a TV,

but laptops just made it all too easy,
now I barely go out,
and when I do it’s usually just for food,
then it’s back to my bed or my couch,

laid up like I’m ill,
typing on my MacBook like an addict,
I mean how do you think I wrote this poem,
I wrote it by typing on my MacBook like an addict,

and I don’t know how it started,
or if it’ll ever end,
some call it Samsara,
others call it trends…

∆ LaLux ∆

It's collapsing from beneath us
Tearing us apart
Faster than light further from the start
Have much fright for this dangerous barren land
My words may end up killing every popular band
Where will we go, what do we do, when do we see
What we are really here for, save it for the tree
Those who question will go beneath everything, (let me show, let me show, yeah, yeah, let me show)
Further than we go, further than we know
Beneath all the islands and all of the Russian snow
Beneath all the Middle Eastern sand far as it goes
Beneath the American badlands (here, let me show)
Canyons, rivers, oceans and sea
Believe me, it's nothing, my music is free
Take these unjust words and listen carefully
Yeah, it may sound like I teach geography
But trust me, I'm just saying you have to be aware
Of what's around you, it just isn't fair
We stare at a screen that tell us what to do
Tells us what to do, yeah, tells us what to do
We stare at a screen that tells us what to do
Tells us what to do, yeah, tells us what to do
We stare at a screen that tells us what to do
Tells us what to do, yeah , tells us what to do
It's collapsing from beneath us
Tearing us apart
Faster than light further from the start
Have much fright for this dangerous barren land
My words may end up killing every popular band
Where will we go, what do we do, when do we see
What we are really here for, save it for the tree
Those who question will go beneath everything, (let me show, let me show, yeah, yeah, let me show)
Further than we go, further than we know
Beneath all the islands and all of the Russian snow
Beneath all the Middle Eastern sand far as it goes
Beneath the American badlands (here, let me show)
Canyons, rivers, oceans and sea
Believe me, it's nothing, my music is free
Take these unjust words and listen carefully
Yeah, it may sound like I teach geography
But trust me you have to be aware
Of what's around you, it just isn't fair
We stare at a screen that tell us what to do
Tells us what to do, yeah, tells us what to do
We stare at a screen that tells us what to do
Tells us what to do, yeah, tells us what to do

I sit at home thinking of life,
On the absurdities and all the strife,
Caught in a world that yearns
For beings to explore it.

How we’ve all grown addicted,
As no one could’ve predicted,
To our own little "ideal" worlds
That rest neatly in the palm of our hands.

We cry and complain,
How things don’t remain,
Just way the way we want
When we point our heads to the sky.

Away from our own little worlds,

We see grandiosity unthought of.
We see war, famine, disagreements, heartbreaks, rejection, and loss.
We stare for but a moment taking it in as our minds collapse in the straw houses we created.
And then just like that, we shun all that we see,
And look back down to that glowing screen and start to rebuild.

Not with something stronger, no.

With that same old material so readily available, to those who refuse to learn.
To those who refuse to face the reality of life.
To those who prefer hearing their own ideas on rerun.
To those who care more about having the appearance of a happiness than to actually achieve it.
To those who care more about likes and comments, pictures and videos, than meeting others.
We sit there smiling at that device that eats away at our growth, our character, and our resolve.

And in our haste to prevent ourselves from acknowledging hardships, we miss something.
In that infinite space away from our "ideal" worlds, exists the other half we no longer see.
The happiness, bonds, trust, friendships, kindness, and love.
The people that want to strike up a conversation, form relationships.
The people who desire an emotional bond, rather than a visual one.
We imitate this, attempt to recreate it, in our fictionalized lives, not realizing how much better the real thing would be.

If only we would look up to the sky.