Inside,
you sleep on the floor.
Empty beer bottles
stain the edges of a
wooden coffee table.
Parking tickets
sit on the ironing board
that blocks the door.

Outside,
you smoke a cig,
tie a flag into a bandana
and snapchat yourself
tripping on route 66
because L.A.
swallowed you at Sunset;
white text quotes
Hunter S. Thompson.
You're so ironic,
but you'll never be him.
So desert your phone
and take a real trip.

Most of us are poor
when it comes
to the currency
of retweets.

We are unworthy,
at the bottom
of the Twitter feed,
Swimming in a stream
littered with what is trending.
Rafting whitewater
every time BuzzFeed tweets:

Follow
the bouncing lamb
Vine account
immediately.

Bots multiply:
I want a #lamb
and we're
drowning.

CHOO CHOO!
It’s moving.
QUICK. JUMP ON,
the steamboat
of salacious content
is
LEAVING.

I say:
Let's fight the current;
Stop being
slaves to click-bait;
Start a revolution with
140 characters.

@KarlMarx
Topple the Verified Twitter users.

it seems to me
that i am attending
my own funeral
in my head

i am now dead
(b.d.s.)