Feels like
No mask thick enough,
no clothes oversized enough,
no noise loud enough, and
no blanket large enough.
Nothing is numbing enough to cover the sense of inadequacy that stretches from my thoughts through to my words, up to my split-ends and down to the depth of my guts.
Inadequacy is an earthquake shaking from the foundations up, except that the shelter you run from is the shelter you run for.
On repeat
We google
we swipe,
we glorify,
we vilify,
in search of connection,
then deny.
We worship algorithms that can not tell fake from butterflies.
The network,
the fiber,
the 4G,
the 5G,
in search of connection,
the speed of light wont’ suffice.
Lost in a cage,
we augment our stance,
we maximize the distance.
Distance from one another and ourselves,
the lethargy of our senses,
we double down in defenses.
We write, we delete, we filter and deplete.
The boomerang of our stares, we share, we don’t really care.
All race,
in the wrong place,
in search of connection,
no one can trace.
That road is you
The road that you take is the road that you make.
All at once,
you are the road,
the traveler,
the journey,
and the destination.
All roads depart from you, trespass through you, and escort you to you.