#disconnection

Nothing.

Mind numbing.

Brain fogging.

Can't specify,

But it's too much

Not enough.

I want to scream

Complain

Vent and frustrate.

Want to burn it all

Ignore every call.

But ask what, why?

There's nothing.

No reason or sting,

Nothing of it to bring,

Just blankness,

Thread through tissue,

Mind wandering free,

Disconnected from annoyance.

Separated.

By needle and thread.

I know they're there,

Could recognise them,

Pick each one apart.

It wouldn't change a thing,

Or give them a sting,

Not more than stepping on stones,

Below even a pinprick.

Yet I feel buried in them,

Unable to separate any.

So I sew and sit back,

Move through the blank

So things are still done.

New psychology research reveals a vicious cycle involving smartphone use and feelings of disconnection

You're just as distracted as me. Put the TV on so we can drown in sound.

Are we still around?

Because I feel everywhere except the ground. You're never gonna understand it. I see the pages and pages you let off steam. You reconfigure your hopes and logic about me.

Am I profound?

Is it deep, or am I just sinking further into the background? Reeling back my fists, punching at the sun. Passive and active, watching-

Cereal bowls overfull so I can eat my trust. Choke on empty words because your throat is filled with dust And distaste for lukewarm and soggy patience, watching-