Check it out people. This is poetry!
Production quick, Consumption quick,
No pens that write. Only mouse-clicks
Upon the faces
To boundless places
Where mind gets sick and can’t be fixed.
Interweb, enter web. Tangled,
Trapped. Abyssal mess. Brain goes cold.
Searching for something
Becoming of nothing
Dead empty human carcass mold.
Gone are Carson’s sweet-sounding birds.
Gone are Poe’s plump poetic words.
Terrific turned to
Terror as thoughts flew
Away in hopeless, homeless herds.