blue light whore

a poem

i’m a slut for the screen;

dopamine-

sucking algorithms

vacuum my

soul out through my eyes,

and trap it behind

aluminosilicate glass.

do you like that?

will you “like” this?

when i die, will i become a post?

isn’t that what i always try to be?

if you stare at my backlit poem

then close your eyes,

you’ll see my ghost;

i’m still following the light

at the end of the

carpal tunnel.

pseudo-illumination

facilitating

macular degeneration.

i’m in hell and no one’s here—

they’re too busy reading

every detail of my life

i’ve posted online.

cognitive decline—avoidant high.

“everything’s fine, i do this all the time.”

let me out

thank you for reading 🖤

em

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