I don’t mind

’cause it doesn’t matter

just ask Alice

or the Mad Hatter

hallucinogenic

subject matter

words bounce

crystals shatter

unconscious

chitter-chatter

mind on fire

thoughts scatter

explosive ideas

on a silver platter

in the end

it’s mind over matter

i tell her im sorry

after the fact

laying there bleeding

flat on her back

her face isnt a face

but instead a painting of fear

i kneel down to her

and wipe her blood like a tear

but where to hide her

in the woods? no

i want to keep her

but no one can know

i didnt mean to kill her

but these things go too far

i just wanted a friend

but things fall apart

so i take her head

and give the rest to the pigs

she'll be preserved

and pretty like this

They call her strong

So she pours the coffee

They call her brave

So she paints another lipstick smile

They call her tough

So she grits her teeth through the pain

They call her courageous

So she puts on her cape

They call her compassionate

So she calls a grieving friend

They call her selfless

So she sets aside her plan

They call her capable

So she grabs her car keys

They call her persistent

So she opens the door

They call her competent

So she weaves through the traffic

They call her clever

So she narrowly avoids a fender bender

They call her caring

So she knocks on the door

They call her loving

So she reaches out to hug her friend

They call her attentive

So she listens to the fears

They call her empathetic

So she cries alongside

They call her helpful

So she puts together a meal train

They call her generous

So she is the first to cook

They call her faithful

So she says another prayer

They call her independent

So she dares not ask for help

They call her steadfast

So she dare not give up today

They call her reliable

So she does it all over again–tomorrow

Anxious waiting

Comprehending

The full weight

of this

imminent collision

Time will be measured

from that point on

Only as

Before

and

After

I took the time to look around

At the hunched backs and bent necks

And the tears falling on a screen

I realize the wasted time

The autotuned screams

The pixelated faces

And girls who are fake

Or animated vulgarly

Scared to look real issues in the face

Like the amount of depression

And amount of pure worry

And children just wanting the future to hurry

Forget the enjoyment of the imagination

Nay the fear of face-to-face confrontation

or the character building we desperately desire

or the first time of feeling love's fire

let us find our religion in the left or the right

or what the internet says at 3 at night

let our blood run RBG

and our brains on dark mode

and believe anything

that Mark Zuckerburg wants to show

but for me

don't give me a screen

Or the fake ecstasy of pixels dancing

Give me a pen