In the scroll of toxic positivity,
self pity spends well.

Skewed paranoia
easily creates the illusion
of complex drama spells
but those fits of wet sniffs
are fuel for a grift

subdural; driven within
by mechanisms the weeper
might not even know they began.
For they ran with the first impulse

as scroll, comment, and post
bleed together in one fast
no lasting nourishing reprieve
from the type, the tap,
the swipe and greed.

In a world without comfort
the self gets small,
until all you are can fit in your phone.
Who needs cigarettes when there's likes to check?

Do it after dinner and if not during sex
then you're forgiven if you break
when they reach for condom
or lube or latex rods of pleasure
so absurdly long that every man
wonders if their equipment will do.

Of course men know they are inadequate and wrong.
They can measure their worth by inches
and the duration of their sobs.
Feel no pity when men cry in the afterglow.

The shine of their phone will brighten those dark thoughts
they have hate groups to laugh at and sock puppets to post on
they have mutuals to keen to and podcasters give vicarious insight.
Let not that lingering care in us keep you from your delight.

Complain of every injustice by the glow of phonelight
there is no world beyond the windows
no sky except the glow
of a million phones on silent
scrolling on to find their home.

Never once surmise that you have problems.
They know you don't.
They will validate your complaints.
As long as it's online.
In person? Well, who has time for that?

Social anxiety isn't just Nuevo DSM,
it's the disorder of the perma-season,
the black gown of new-mirror winter.

Don't stop and wonder how much
the cycle of likes, emojis, and replies
prop right the other person inside.
Their observed growth isn't cancerous
it's a life ambition now. Dangerous
chattel beyond the windows can talk.
Typing is faster and who needs to fuck?
              n
Sex is g diversion from productivity.
Seeing body parts is disgusting.
Moles and scars and pimples and
birth defects and skin tags and
those social rejects have no reason
to think they hold a candle to your
inner wonder. Let lust be their prison.

You are liberated.

You are beyond want.

You are the future.

The world needs your taps.

They need your eyes on the ads.

They need you to stay on the phone.

Work. Sleep. Phone.

Fasting is actually a useful way to reduce weight while you're exercising your thumb, forearm, shoulder, and neck. It's better to be less than what you are. Less is always more. It'll get you closer to that six pack life you deserve. Mewling from a loveless existence is great for your abdomen. Wait until you're doing it for an hour, you can really feel it then. Of course, most stop feeling the urge to tear after some months. You need that moisture for the optic spheres in your skull. There's nothing better than eyes on your phone.

Friends are inside.

They wait for your reply.

Don't hesitate.

Don't remember the people around you
that you could feel when they cried.
Think about how much time was wasted
as you sat around and pondered what to say
next thing you know, they'll insult you
like you did to them. It was quote-un-quote
in jest, but that mess is just the shit toxic fucks
always say to get away with turbulent speak.

It takes several months to insult a friend
and have it mean nothing because
of the strength of your connection.
Stop and think.
When was the last time
anyone insulted you online?

Be more than ad revenue.
Reject the buzz of doubt.
Dare to talk. Live life anew.
Be the one to start a shout.