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"I'm an individual.
I'm sure of myself and I don't need
No-one to give me a purpose or a ritual."
But our right thumbs keeps moving
Up and down
Up and down
Without purpose until skin touches
And flashing images look up at us with
Fake and begging to be
Touched with that double tap.
The people living in these phones
Present a smile to the world
And offer to feed us with their thoughts and
I fall into this trap, myself
Because I want to know how it feels
To experience a small shred of admiration,
The ultimate kill.
But throw that hypnotising device away
So that we can't peer in or exist within it,
And let us allow others to
Sniff the realest part of our being
And indulge in who we truly are.
We may be bitter and dark,
Or fermented with age and sour,
Or even sweet and tightly wrapped up,
And although it'll feel sore and unpleasant,
The gift of reality is the best kind of present.