I miss you so much, I'm always longing your touch.

i see youre on now or so i believe
i try to say hi but you dont reply
i wait a long while hoping youll receive
half an hour later again i try

again i fail to get your attention
i cant help but wonder whats going on
this incident i will later mention
but i wonder if you are for now gone

its like trying to strike conversation
only to find out that you were asleep
i stay on til ive the revelation
then i hear the power buttons soft beep

we are both on when i check the next day
and you tell me "sorry was afk"

I sometimes wonder about things and how they fit. Like how my heart hurts in your absence but skips a beat when I see your name on a screen and the lilt in your voice when you tell me that you only make fun of me because you love me. Like how written words are strung together by thoughts that haven’t had a chance to become audible and how before serious things are said voices become shaky. Or how your hands would feel pressed up against mine and how my lips would feel against the crevice of your neck. I wonder how the sun would look hitting your face while we drive to pick up our million friends for lunch, and how I’d smack your hand away from changing the radio station when one direction comes on. How my blankets would feel warmer with your legs and arms wrapped around me or how my eyes would look you up and down when you walk into the room before we leave for that thing “we can’t miss.” How you’re the only girl I’d actually move across the world for just so I could pick you up from work and take you to get ice-cream. How you’d look in a fancy dress with your long hair curled and how I’d slide a section of your hair behind your ear and kiss your forehead, and then your lips. Or how I’d sit you in my lap while I played video games and make out with you just so I had an excuse to afk. I wonder how my perfume would mix with yours and how hard my lipstick would be to get out of the collar of your shirt and how I would whisper how beautiful you are before I pulled you close to me just to rest my head on your shoulder. I sometimes wonder how you and I come together and how we never fall apart and I wonder how I would be if you unravelled and how quickly I could break the record at putting you back together again. I wish I could say I loved you for always defending me, for always believing in me, for never making me feel stupid for things that I like or love, but that’s only part of it. I think I love you because you’re soft, and kind, and honest and everything I’ve always wanted to be. I love you for missing me quickly, for completing me, for never being out of reach. I love you for the things you don’t like about yourself, and for the reasons that you think I’d turn away. I love you because you’re everything and because nothing feels right when you’re gone.

-

Just basically an accounting of
language as it is conveyed
between media types

namely,

Air, Silicone and Mail ;

in Air,
you have to
basically be ready to
respond within a reasonable
period, say about three or four seconds

upon Silicone, you could "afk" and then
mix a drink- rinse out the mixing
utensils and type a response
with some degree of
forethinking

in Air,
you could breath
in the real-time vibes that
trigger automatic subject sensitivity,
like, (something too disturbing for me to detail here)

upon Silicone, you would be able to digitally
sort and discard these disturbing elements
and then lie to yourself about the
true weight of the
conversation


in Air,
a comedian can
deliver a punchline in
order to impulse a laugh out of you,
even to the point of spitting out your wine

upon Silicone, latency can cause punchlines
to be misinterpreted as an offense, which
will likely sully those carefully
established digital
relationships

—

You
could encode
the Air in the fashion
that Native Americans did
with campfires and blankets,

but i would never suggest that
you try and breath Silicone__ !

nor pattern the "the ins and outs"
of breathing within the basic scope
of a vacuum in order to encode
it upon a microchip that
can only be read by
a machine—

either way, in case you
may not have noticed,

Personal Letters are —at this moment—
asphyxiating into blue screen
oblivion,
deep inside the
Lost Mailbags of Redundancy...




"Comm_Check"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved


.

The Game Of Life
Life is a game
Where everyone is trying to take names
Some people try everyone like an NPC
These people make a lot of enemies
Some people treat everyone like a new friend
People are usually happy to see them in the end
When life gets hard some people go AFK
Others see others that need help and no matter what won't go away
The most important part of life however is to always do your best
For this is the game of life's true test

today has been so long and so tiring; i think i should lie
down. the anxiety has me feeling like a stranger
a lot lately. it’s not the only thing getting me down
it’s always the same sad songs that i’m listening
to that make me feel alive it’s usually always music that brings light
back into my life but lately, music isn’t my only friend

sometimes, i wonder if you really are my friend
i can’t help but stop short when i catch you in a lie
or saying something insulting or being devoid of light
it may be the anxiety speaking, but you feel like a stranger
you’re always doing the talking and i’m always doing the listening
but there are good times too so i push the red flags down

whenever you hit me up, drunk at 4am, im always down
sometimes its not me, but you rather, who is in need of a friend
you go on and on and deign to ask if im still listening
and of course i am, i always am, even if im afk —i’ll lie
and say i did because it would be stranger
to admit it —no, i would rather leave off that light

but that’s just the thing, though right — light?
i give you so much, yet you give none, i bring you up, but you bring me down
at this point i’m not sure which one of us is in fact the stranger
at this point i’m not sure which one of us is in fact the friend
when you’re good, i’m bad; when you’re bad, i’m good; when i’m bad, i lie
and say i’m good because its not like you’re listening

on the other hand, sometimes you are listening
and its those days when i start to feel light
because it seems like things are changing, like you’re changing —a lie
i tell myself over and over again, while i watch you drag me down
of course, the lyrics to this song fit —"thoughts of a sober friend”
when you’re sober you play the friend, but when you’re not, you play the stranger

i’m starting to think that if you’re going to keep playing the stranger
then I’ll keep you at an arm’s length away, always listening
but never leaning in, never getting wrapped up in you more than a friend
should ever, never letting you steal my light,
never letting you drag me down
again, never believing you when you lie