Buzz, beep
Demanding glare of a flickering screen
Hands rifle through pockets and purses
Find validation in rigid thumbs
Hands forgot to join in prayer last night
But glide over a keyboard
I woke feeling zero
Turned to her blinking monitor eyes
I heard her smile
Nothing more than Morse code for
Error four-oh-four
I woke feeling one
Huxleyan white noise
Of pixels impregnated with the passions of the ignorant
Feel me
But do not touch me
For I am no different than those fools
Making love to the Device
Half-hearted
And I can’t help but wonder
Why I’m even attempting Poetry
In a world that cannot read its own digital tongue

I fear the net is becoming
dystopic in the Huxleyan sense,
Much of it is now ruled by algocracies.

¶rovidence favored Big Tech's undertaking:
They tapped the attention-economy, our drive
to create, consume and pass comment on content;