#minimalistverse
Gaze fixated on the small window,
the screen blinks—
But eyes don’t.
Laze dissipates at the sound of notifications,
eyes glimmer—
But the screen won’t.
Lows disguised as highs that never show.
The screen goes dark,
so do the eyes—
curves reaching,
While you fall apart.
Never meeting,
While you collapse, alas!
So close, yet so far
Like a planet to a star
Whiskey to the glass
Hyperbola to the graph.
-Asher Graves
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 8:27 AM UTC
I wake to pings, the calendar decides
if I have time to breathe or just exist.
Coffee, deadlines, curated feeds of joy—
I scroll through lives that look more real than mine.
Peace is an app now, or a yoga class,
balance sold in bottles, chaos dressed in chic.
We laugh in memes, cry in disappearing texts,
and call it living—this curated mess.
But when the noise breaks, truth hums like a wire:
you’re real, if only when the screen goes dark.
May 25, 2025
May 25, 2025 at 8:58 AM UTC