Airborne

Still.  Be Still.

Listen for it.

In the ether,

passing through you

interrupting you

bothering you

trolling you.

 

Glowing.

Glowing words.

Pull, prod,

and taunt as they

dance across

your fading brain

in a smiling-poop

sort of way.

 

Yellow circles blare

every feeling everywhere

in a cacophony

of keystrokes.

We divorced

frowny face.

Got laid

smug mug.

Doesn’t anyone write?

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