The Problem

restless eyes
beg anxiously for sleep
yet they continue to dart
back and forth
in a dance with the devil
across my iPhone screen
I am the problem
I am society


No title

Maybe the world is my oyster
I see the filter-feeding assholes
Mounted with bacterium
Eeking out to infect you with
Sordid capitalism and the next
New iPhone 27,000 with
Underwater laser beam technology
And free hand jobs for all the lonely,
Sad scum-suckers who don’t remember
How to be a human being any more.