Casting Nets of Convenience

We passed each other in the hallway, nodded and smiled. He went into his apartment and closed the door, then said: Alexa, set a timer for thirty minutes. And she said Okay . . . Convenience will be the death of you. Master.

And I thought, what if we are erasing ourselves with technology?

Casting Nets of Convenience

Scrubbing this diseased
skin flaking
into ash and sand
like salt mounds taller
than the great mountains and
stretching from horizon to horizon
this is how we reach
such great heights and far distances.
How we communicate with the dead,
or loved ones across whole oceans.
scrubbing to get clean
erasing ourselves is a process.
Start it all over again.
Climb further. Thickness is
numbers, piling.
Numb to the bone. Scrub the bone
hide behind the phone.
Those people on the screen? those aren’t people,
they’re CGI and they have rights too;
sons and daughters of a corporation. Now’s
the time to explode. We are piling high
laying in beds feeding the sloth within
while casting ourselves into the net
lying in beds
so that we can be everywhere
but here
this fiction is growing
this future we’re sowing
into that which we
can’t recognize
our brains are spilling
liquefied and
pulled out from under
us like the table cloth
Stomach on the floor. Evolving
into something we can’t classify.
there’s no winning, we’ve already won.
Numb. We don’t have any friends anymore.
Numbers. Numbers, lying on the bed
a pile of numbers. We don’t have friends
we have numbers. Numb.
We are numb to the bone.

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