Interweb affairs,
For in reality she's scared, to dare her perferated heart!!
Terror at the start....
Controlling man is all she has known... How corrupted she's become..
Deaf,blinded, and dumbed to what magazines tell her she can be.
Can't she see? For no makeup is needed..
No love can be given if alls taken, by the monsters you shall seek!
For can't you speak?
For your souls hidden amongst the thorns..
Beautifully torn,
Interweb disaster are you after!!!
For its not the place for you...
Woman of Craigslist, a believer in YouTube!

i am the lyrical terrorist,
     stalking virtual grasslands
     technology fueled efficient
     #winning#unabombereatyourheartout

     IDK how 2 roboto-cize
     spiritual growth.
     YET
     IDGAF bout your FB status
     if you dont respond to mine.
     First.
     #circumcumnavigate

     the sheep are now wolves
     (lobotomized)
     preying on our weaknesses

    BRING ME ANOTHER POWER STRIP!

     See?
     so much 2 say...
     Why?

                        c
               i                   g
           r     the globe      n
               c                   i
                         l

     Word.

i.

Once upon a time, in the interweb of H.P
Betwixt technology's advance, wherein all us poet's dream;
I met a queen, a tan skinned Filipino rose
I kneweth her from before formation, we got conjoined by toe's.

ii.

Friend's only at first, she was always there to listen
Though in love the whole time, an angelic preordained invention;
Both to shy, to cometh out with ourn realest affection's
Though mine spirit was screaming telleth her, I got her attention.

iii.

After us both in focus, and this hellish step-stool left behind
We both, like past life ghost's, made ourn amour' as sweet wine;
And now and forever, until the end of tommorrow, and time
We shalt forever fasten ourn specter's, now all maketh sense fine.

iv.

Many thinkest eternal living doth not exist, after ourn death
Telleth that to me and earl Jane nagley, as we shalt flyeth;
Ourn wing's wilt glideth, the moon's, atmosphere's, and star's
God is ourn guider, the angel's sit beside her, as I feeleth whole

                                            In mine heart.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication

Hi, hello, I'm here.
My name is Lucas-Jasper, but you can call me Jas. (pronounced J-***) Never call me LJ. That's weird.
I'm an Aries, and I'm dumb.

Sometimes I'll write about wth is going on, or I'll write poetry, or nothing at all.
Idk man.

(Feel free to message me whenever *** I'm always on the search for interweb friends)

- Jas

Anyone canst be a interweb lover
Yet whilst thou make it a reality?
Anyone canst be a typewriter buddy,
Yet whilst thou pick up thy fingers and dial?

Such a loss and disconnection this world has taken on as a mask!

Hopeless romance!!

Watching the world slowly commit suicide....

>Extract
Readme.txt
Todays topic of discussion is digital physics
I/O
>Boot sequence
•Online
Big Bang initiates
The grandiose simulation
Cosmos at war with emulation
Surrounded by bots lost in false self awareness;
Like castles in the air
Beware when virtual CPU perishes

From far enough away,
the galaxy is comprised of minute pixels
The brittle firmware will be abysmally crippled
When a hacker simply introduces
a virus into reality's framework
DDOS style attacks will conclude in
Universal Blue Screen of Death
Resulting in the glitching out
of exodus in mass

Metaphysical metadata memory dump
(checksum)
Mirror carbon copy clones of true conscious unification
Are simply sentient drones toiling
in their default algorithmic hallucination

Scrolling through existence
Analog life is digitized in the matrix
illusionofconsciousness.exe
Interface encrypted in the realm of comprehension
Representations of data abstracted
from the banks of every computer
in the human system

Lets get down to basics
Matter does not exist
Science is not sacred
DNA is molded by perception
Creativity is your true oasis

Trans-dimensional harbingers
Conspire together to alter our processors
Measure and tether us to our oppressors
It's standard procedure
Following the leaders

Open the prompt
>Start/Run/cmd
With custom font,
Format my programming;
molecular syntax -
Port the source code
To run on new platforms
Upgrading paradigm
Until baseband collapses

Systematic inversion
We the people,
End users of genetic *******
Trapped in beta,
the bane of human recursion
It's our destiny
To become one with singular conversion

Iterations of congregations
Gregariously lost in configuration
Flies entangled into the interweb
Tied to the mainframe marionette
Files unable to bypass the firewall
Gateway remains unattainable

>cut/copy/paste
>(Ctrl+x/ctrl+c/ctrl+v)
Interweaves cyberspace as our
perceived reality database

>Ctrl-alt-del
>Task Manager
>System
>End process

•Offline
>Server on standby
Null

Dragged and dropped into the recycle bin
Degauss your GPU state of consciousness
& manifest color as it truly exists
In its most absolute resolution

Maximize your window of life
Partition the root someplace private
Elevate your mind to optimal brightness
>Reboot in safe mode*
To achieve enlightenment

"Alright, I've had enough of this."
"Yeah, what are we doing looking at drawings of plushies of Pokémon anyway?"
"I guess that's just go the Internet rolls; you just keep going off on tangents, forever."

forever is a long time












to wait
for someone
and he waited








for me
for 9 years
until
9 tears
spilled
  d
      o
  w
      n
   his face
   a trace
   of              
         d       n       e
   a                           s
s                                 s

o       l       t       f
n       i       h      r
         n      a      o
t        e      t       m
h       s              
e               r       h
                 a       i
                 n       s


E      E
Y      S
    t
    o
    h
     i
     s
t          s
   o   e

nobody knows
how far this goes
how      o                     n
        o        o           o         g
     l                   o                  she strolls
without (whoa)s

each pebble places puzzles
pedaling peddlers play in puddles

triplet
        o
      twin
        e            tu
   ­     r              mb
        s            le

rumble mumble bumble
                        


                       GO AWAY
                             stay okay

my tires are all tiring
my spark plug is misfiring
my wires need rewiring
my modem is requiring
the answers i’m inquiring
why are we all conspiring
an interweb inspiring
an instant gram empire ring













my Angel waits on HI
                                   BI

Lisa comes into my room and flops on the bed. The day had been uncompromisingly gray, windy and cold. The night sky was a snowy, blowing darkness, an absolute void that absorbed the campus lights and reflected nothing back. “I’m missing Spring Break,” Lisa she says.

“It doesn’t even seem like Spring Break happened,” I say. “Most Yalies went to Puerto Rico this year, I think, from my sampling.”

“RIGHT?” Lisa said, “EVERYONE says that - we’re in sync. But I enjoyed Paris,” Lisa continued, “I liked your family - no - I LOVED your family,” she amends.

“THAT’s a strong take,” I say, chuckling.

“I watched basketball with your uncle (Rémi) and cousins and helped your grandma cook,” she explains, “I felt like a part of your family.”

“Aww,” I say, “You ARE part of my family now - you’re TRAPPED,” and we laughed.

They invented spring break because after several months, the student mind starts to notice a harsh reality - how much their dorm room resembles a cinder-block jail cell - and starts to wonder how a lifetime of study and stress over grades has gotten them no further in life than the average felon.

We’re at lunch. Lisa says, “Ok, what’s new with you?” Keep in mind we see each other ten times a day.

“Well,” I say, I’ve decided that “The Beatles are for spring.” Lisa laughs. “Stop!” I demand, “I’m going deep. Today’s song is Julia,” I say, “It’s John Lennon’s song to his mom who was run over by a car when he was a child.”  “I love that song,” Lisa says.

“Ok, what about you?” I ask.
“My song right now is “Move like a Boss,” Lisa says, “When I’m walking across campus, with my air pods on - I’m intense, don’t get in my way - I’m dangerous, I’ll Will Smith you - I scare me.”

“Good to Know,” I say, wishing I’d gotten a lemon brownie.

Then I add, “I’ve got this presentation on Monday that I haven’t even had time to look at yet. If I don’t get on it by this weekend it’ll be a nuclear-level disaster. I started on it yesterday and the Internet went down for 20 minutes. It was stressful - of course, you don’t know how long the outage is going to be when you’re IN it - and I had THINGS to do - is that convoluted? ”

“No,” Lisa says, nodding in agreement, “losing the Interweb’s traumatic.”

I keep almost going back to my old ways,
Over-thinking, worrying
Once again causing problems that weren’t ever there
I need to be happy with what has happened
How far i’ve come
I need to be okay failing
In order to be successful later
Who gives a **** what happened now?
IT DOESN’T MATTER FRIEND
Time passes,
People change,
Just make sure you don’t stay the same.

It took me many years to be brave
And apparently just a few inspirational words
From someone who gets it.
No matter where life takes me
Me being brave will never change
And I will continue to be just that.
I need to thank everyone who has ever helped me
My friends, Family, and Everyone.
I hope that I am able to repay you one day.
With life’s twists and turns
I will never let them take a hold of me again.
I will let life lead me where I need to go,
No matter how long it takes.
Nothing worth having comes easy
And
Nothing easy is worth having.

i.

Cryeth not mine unearthly floret, for thou art good enough
Cryeth not, thine tear's art mine tear's, thine fear is mine fear;
Cryeth not mine pet, thine bijou vision's art met with mine own
Cryeth not holy apostle, thine anguishing jostle's across interweb.

ii.

Frowneth not mine protector, thine room awaiteth me to arrive
Frowneth not O' ethereal ressurector, I'm stuck sweetly in mind;
Frowneth not core of mine existence, thou art mine daily bread
Frowneth not, thine Thorn's art off, now they sit upon mine head.

iii.

Smile mine delicate sweet, I'm begging at thy feet for one laugh
Smile mine elegant treat, I'm more than happy, with thee blessed;
Smile mine earl Jane nagley, soon to taketh mine hand, two ring's
Smile mine dandy, we shalt meet soon, in ourn room, Bell's ding.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication

Digital existence. While the living worlds

Diminished.

Just for basic daily fitness

Some need virtual assistance.

Gambling drugs and women

The sky no longer is the limit

It's the satellites with in it

And if you got it you can spend it

Weapons. Brides and ammunition





If your boy ain't acting right dont hesitate act now and end it.

Why fix problems when

Online Youll find 10 other men 

That want to enter into friendship



Love is free. But who wants freedom

We need physical connection

Pof is great. 11 bucks a month

And  **** is endless

Period. End of the sentence.


Moving onto next 

You can alter your body  and dimensions.

So it's impossible to tell

Where photoshopped begins

And where you ended...

People get bullied on social media

Some first fight *** there unfriended

***** been going on for centuries

But the internet made it demented

Some ignore the petty ****

And do what the internet intended

Go on grindr. Order fireworks

And search the laws of natural selection

it's important for those who you care about, to know that you're there for them. it doesn't matter if you can give advice or not, simply listening (for the most part) is the most important. simply saying "i'm here for you" can make a huge difference in someone's struggle. it could be what saves them. be mindful of others, everyone has a story. hopefully we all get to share.

What the **** is Cuck?
It’s a brand new ***** word
If you’ve been called a cuck
You should know that you’ve been slurred

You may have come across it
While browsing the Interweb
And seen it used insultingly
When describing a Bush called Jeb

It’s short for the old word Cuckhold
But given a new spin
It’s used to insult someone who’s committed
the Political Correctness sin.

If I may be declarative,
The word is simply horrible,
Be ye liberal or conservative
I’d say it’s quite deplorable

The Donald is no cuck, for sure
When he utters dog whistles like this -
If he says “blood comes out of her ‘whatever’”
The true meaning you just can’t miss

Or when he said the Second Amendment People
Might take care of our dear Hillary
Of whom he impugned would eliminate guns
And promised that he would pillory

Apologies are for sissies
Don’t wait for a pivot or turn
Was it voter suppression that rigged the election?
One day, we may learn

Cuck is the word of the day
Like some chirp made by Pepe the Frog
A new epithet from the far alt-right
Who follow our new demagogue

i.

O' mine filipino beloved.
How mine heart aches, and these bones shaketh without thine essense of interweb hug's;
Mine tear's, there hath been plenty.Without the sound of thy voice, mine ears hast been itchy.

ii.

When I layeth down to slumber mine dear.
Just knoweth i cut and print out thy picture's- plastered them to mine wall, to feeleth thou were near;
For if it takes a whilst to seeith thee again mine pet,
Please knoweth again we shalt be one abode, an amour' we shant forget.




©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane nagley dedication ~filipino rose~

There once was a time,
When children could play outside,
Without their parents fear or cries.

In this time, the world was big,
But at least the little child,
Could explore it to his delight.

In the shroud of childhood,
The sunset is much more intense,
The greens of the trees much more serene.

And when you jump in the lagoon,
With you’re friends beside you,
You look back, and sigh, knowing you once had paradise.

But those days are gone now.
Sheltered lives, and internet.
We dive into the web, with false lives, and lies.

Where once their was honesty, decency,
And a Hard day’s Play.
Now, no more.

Sure, racism is just a joke for the comedians,
But what happens when it is our kids who grow up,
Each getting a trophy for losing.

I think they become the joke.
I think when we started to take out tough love and consequences.
When we started to believe our kids over our teachers.
When we kept them inside during the summer’s days and nights.
When we prioritized effort over victory, over success.
That failure was an acceptable outcome.
When its really, really, not.
That’s when the time we once had,
The golden age of America.
Faded, away.

But what do I know,
Hush now, I’m off to use,
The interweb machine.
This time I’m a thirty-four year old Asian female.
See you on the other side.

I could stay up all night for you.
Not for your promises,
or for what I want to hear.

But just knowing that,
on the other end of this telephone,
or this interweb,
there's another soul
looking for just as much company as I am.

We d o better
when we e x i s t together,
not when we're t r y i n g to b e together.

I don't know everything
                                                       unless you ask my wife
                                                       and my daughter
                                         then they will tell you
                                                             ­                  I think I do.

                                  But I never made such a claim.

            Like today,
                               a poem stumbled onto me
                               and dropped a
                                                             "zeitgeist"
                                                    i­nto my finite word bag.

                   Can't say as if
                                            I ever met the man
                               but I discovered him
                                                             ­ and his ancestry
                                                  via
  ­                               the world wide interweb.

           There I found
                                        the zeitgeist of my being
                                                           ­              is both learning
and learn-ed.

                                   Learning
                                                  becaus­e I just did.

Learn-ed
               because I'm pretty good
                                             at Words With Friends.

                                     If all things were equal
                                                          a­nd every soul existed in
              a seven tile universe
                                                 I would be somebody!

                                                      ­Yet
                                              among poets
                        I am plain
                                           with no visceral reactions
                        because that's eight letters.

     However, of this one thing I am sure,
                                     if you trip
                                     and drop a basket
                                     full of blocks
                                     which fall to the letters
                                                    U
          ­                           E
                                                             R
                                           S
                                                       O
                                               I
                                    S
                         ­                            I will turn it into
                                                            ­                   a SERIOUS poem
                                                   (worth 59 points TW and the bingo).

Though the upward blue is swarthy
I shalt get mine fill, on one day a queen and thrill;
She shalt tuck me in, her cosy confinement
Like the universe in etching, ourn spirit's realignment.

Bursting color's like snakes Rattler's
Tambourine music to flood the air;
A damsel on life's edge, loosing her head
Though me as her king, I shalt be there.

Walking hand to finger's
Gently nuzzle her with mine nose;
The word's " I loveth thee mine queen"
No if's, and's, or I suppose.

None interweb sensation
That just DIETH out;
A clap of hand's, from the crowd of band's
A strain of sand, ourn feet to route.

Her nape i shalt warmly bloweth on
To arouse her inner awareness;
Agreeing to be one unshunned
A village to be isolated, in ourn fairness.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry

What is left to say
About our humdrum daily lives?
Monday to Sunday all year round
In time manufactured by mankind.
Monotonous mazes of standardised building blocks.
Daytime TV all timetabled and scheduled
The Interweb
Media meditation
For brainwashed, mindless zombies:
Heads immersed in mobile phones
Or faces bathed in television light.

Crime ridden streets await us
When we venture forth
To pre-appointed places
In a world we call “Routine”.

Little wonder then
That Imagination soon takes over
At least for me.
Heading off to Planet Paul
For flights of fancy
Fuelled by Star Trek
And Battlestar Gallactica to name but two
Of my favourite shows.
For I love Space
And anything else that lies beyond
The dreariness
Of the Here and Now.

Why do you write?
They ask as if Confession is required.
I stumble on my words
Trying to explain
How I simply have to write.
For I never can stop dreaming
And once I dream
Then I simply have to share
Whatever I’ve dreamt
With all of you.

Paul Butters

© PB 18\12\2018.

Human romance
Interweb connection; dreamy
The words I loveth thee.

Angelic romance
Meeting one in person; realism
Taking plane or train, making it happen.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

Stop asking for medical advice on Facebook,
Your superglue stitches and peroxide mismanagement
Will cost you more than a doctor's visit.
Stop asking for medical advice on Facebook
If you want to keep your limb.
I've found more competence on the "interweb."
Stop asking for medical advice on Facebook.
An oxygen embolism and cellulitis will
Have you putting out more than the Urgent Care.
Please, stop asking for medical advice on Facebook!
-Sincerely,
The EMT student who is constantly preventing disaster
For people with minor injuries who think 50's era first aid advice
Is a suitable alternative.

Being someone's dream
And being someone's reality
Art two different entities....
As in being one's dream
( their just that, not real, an illusion)
Being one's reality....
Whether on the interweb or in person
Means thou wouldst do anything to be with that person
Something one cannot do whilst dreaming..
Such as taking a plane
Bus
Car
Or even thy own feet
To go be with that person in realness....
In dreams sure thou canst be with one in thy head at night
But in the morning thou shalt waketh up alone,
And truly wish those dream's were real....
A saddened illusion..
I'm a realist,
I'm the crazy one who'd take
A plane
A bus
Or car
Or feet,
To SEE the one I love.  
I'm just a hopeless romantic realist...
And proud to be..
We're a dying breed these days.....
Verily I telleth thee....

I'm a dying breed...

I seest so many interweb connected lover's telleth eachother
Especially here;
"I loveth thee"
Doth thou?
Wouldst thou die for that amour?
Asketh thyself that question;
Wouldst thou really die for them?
If tis yes,
That's love
That's love......



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry

Her interweb profile
Canst sure pulleth a man in......
And hogtie him..

During the anticipation and transitioning of a beautiful morning sunrise sky
Five minutes of mindfulness and quiet breathing gives me a reason to fawn
There is a magic-ness waiting and watching for dawn
There is internal balking at impending healthy walking
My attention switches
I seem concerned about a proper Thai lunch venue
And whether luv is on the menu
An afternoon nap is refreshing for an old sap
A pink blue sunset quietly paints the evening sky
Such a wonderful feast for tired, sore eyes
I spend dark night hours interweb surfing, online backgammon, watching some Masterpiece views of a dead monarch’s family fight
Hoping and praying for a continuous sleep filled night

This all happens over the course of a day

Met, We have in dimensions beyond these three
In all Our exchanges, I can tell Your heart is free
Your feeling, Your wisdom, Your tender touches of thought
Will always be treasured whether We meet or nought
When least expected, nothing left to laugh at or say
YOU, My Friend For Life remembered My birthday
Once was enough.  I was truly stunned
That You so far away, with no investment, time or otherwise
Took the time to be gracious to Me and Your thoughtful act brought a smile to My eyes

Some day, somewhere, somehow, We may get skin to skin
If that happens, then for both of Us, new horizons begin
In My bereavement, I am in such a lost state
My finances, My nerves, My sleep,
My ***** clothes and You have to wait
If the meme was physical beauty,
I would crawl over cut glass to get to You
BUT A day without tears is the next item on My List To Do

I do have one sharp pin to push in to a deeper depth
Why would You add that last, leery, lunging line about wealth, Eh ?
Over X number of years,
We have talked in a comfortable, smooth, flow and ebb
Have I ever given the impression
I was drilling for $$$ on the interweb, Eh ?
Do You see Me as so shallow that I would court You or anyone else because they had means, Eh ?

The answer is ' no ' regarding means or I would not be sitting here po’, broke and overly distraught with a few pennies in My jeans



If You speak truth and that statement was just an aside
Keep Your money, remain alone and certainly nurture Your pride
While money can't buy Love and very often resents it
There is no reason for You to be alone because
Love can always be rented

The best true Love starts as We did - Friends - I will admit that
I will not promise You a golden roaring Lion and deliver a bane of a regular grey alley cat

Here is something You don't know about Me
that will remain true to the end
When I make a commitment, I am there thru thick and thin
all day, every day and never a slip

You could be the One, the Lover Of My Life.  Never refusing Me, never abusing Me, Never leaving Me alone
I am loaded with stories, some failures, some glories, and nothing else I own
As I look around the bend, in the near distance - the end, I am currently a heart broken Love due to loss
I could never hurt You with the wild, wretching, wicked emotional ride of You watching Me when I am ready to cross

IF Life sends Me another Love, Yes, You are right –
there is no judgment on My keyring
Greater than that - Number 1 in My book –
is Unconditional Love. That's what I bring

Built on the Angel wings of propriety,
the fantasy is always better than the reality

Today

Let’s see now
Have all the boxes been unpacked and everything stored away ?
Is everything in its rightful place ?
Have You fingered out the best routes to take to handle Your biz
And get around all the tour buses in Your way ?
When You do not wish to cook
Have You identified the best priced, most convenient buffet ?

Have You had the time to meet at least one neighbor ?
Have You decided when You will use Your multiple skill set and continue to share the deep uniqueness of Your labors ?

You am so lucky to have a partner in Your life
Say ‘ Hi ’ to Mister – from vY

Please continue to pray for Me and with Me
I have asked the Lord God for a sign
The answer may be more for You
The next time You waltz thru a casino
Put a quarter on the roulette wheel – number 29

Have You set up a new interweb handle
With a new address and new name ?
Though communication is still possible thru the miles
Neither Burbank nor I will ever be the same

And now for Page 2 and a bit more ado

Yes, I know we did not ‘ hang out ’ so to speak
But You were and are instrumental in the life of an intractable old man like Me
I often sit lost in dreaming on the third floor of this building with a great southern view
While You are not really gone and un-contactable, I miss You

The beautiful nostalgic collectible items brought a watery surprise to My tired eyes
I luv it            I luv it              I luv it
My weary heart thanks You mucho for the box You sent
After a small stack of tissues, I was emotionally spent

If You only knew how much You have touched this old fool
You are a true gem – with a platinum heart awash in jewels
Someday, when My quality of life is a bit more exquisite
Don’t be surprised when I come to visit

May the Peace of the Creator keep You smiling, healthy, happy, sassy, saucy and keep eternal oil in Your torch
I feel certain You will remain an energized bunny
With no time for a granny rocker on the porch

If nothing else moves Your heart and mind
MY fervent hope is in these helter skelter musings You find
The thing that brings from Me to You and back again with loving kindness across the miles
The tender mercy of a heartfelt smile ~

A hell of a tale in a bit of a shell
With an idea quite fertile
Head in hand – sink or stand
Exactly where is your turtle ?

This is not the type of subject this writer usually notes
A few more misfires and start overs and this paper may be best fed to goats

Every human has a touch, a button, a squish
A nicky, sticky, wicket like shaking hands with a wet fish

Someone is in their sensual state
With wanton waves they view on the interweb shell
No one tells all of their trailing tales in their private time bouncing in and out of the id / ego hell

Stick your hand out
Stick your neck out
Stick your head out
Stick your heart out

? Is your shell a relaxing colorful chameleon style ?
? Is it a *****, filthy comedian’s smile ?
? Do you advance, retreat, silently twist ?
Breathe, bellow, *****, bombast, prepare for battle and put up both your fists ?

? Where is your turtle ?
Perchance your id is resting and watching behind a furtive boulder
Perhaps your ego is well balanced with a chip on both shoulders

I know someone with an ostrich stitch
Pure unconditional LOVE is staring them eyeball to face
Yet, at a hurried and pointed pace
This person is face planting in an upside down position into a broad road ditch

? Where is your turtle ?

I
Over the smooth, black screen
the only thing moving
was her reflection in the glass.

II
She was of a thousand minds
like a distracted puppy
constantly chasing squirrels.

III
The screen suddenly illuminates
telling her she’s been summoned
from the depths of the interweb

IV
A white girl and a latte are one.
A white girl, a latte and an iPhone are one.

V
She doesn’t know which to prefer:
Apple’s reliability
or Android’s creativity.
The iPhone’s ringtones
or it’s vibrations

VI
Notifications fill the lock screen.
The beauty of distraction.
The shadow of that risky text,
the mood,
Panic, regret and slight curiosity
but wait, another notification:



VII
Oh, shallow daughter of mine,
why do you imagine you have many friends?
Do you not see that your only popularity
lies behind an electrical glow?

VIII
She knew brave souls that went boldly without.
They missed out on inside jokes and plans made
yet she wondered if it is they who are truly living.

IX
When the iPhone went out of sight
it marked the moment when the blindfold came off.

X
At the sight of phones in her peer’s hands
part of her cringes with withdrawal
while another layer of obscurity is wiped from her eyes.

XI
She walked the hallways of school with new lenses
Once a fear pierced her.
In the shadow of vulnerability,
In the want of a screen.

XII
Her focus is changing.
The screen must be blank.

XIII
It was morning all evening.
She noticed the birds singing
and they would continue to sing.
For she had learned to look through
the small box with a screen.