I am only beloved
by dead and dying women.
And there are no true friends,
in this Byzantium of bytes.
We made a new society,
and called it happiness, connectedness,
modernity.
But there are no friends,
there is no paper, and perhaps
words mean less, when they can be whisked away
as though we never let them out.
Or even less, if they are drowned in everything
everyone has ever said.
Something has been lost here,
and I am only loved,
by those far and farther away.
Friends you cannot hug,
are not friends.
People who do not share,
something as simple as the same air
might share nothing at all.
We made a new way of life,
and called it mobility, opportunity,
the information age.
But do you really know where you're going,
if you can never get lost?
Do you really know anyone,
when you know everyone?
Why remember anything,
when memory is metal and light?
Why remember sunrise,
when the world is up all night?
Something is amiss here,
as I am only cared for, by strangers passing through.
A man made mist of nothingness,
a carousel of feelings that were often subtle lies.
Did we make a desolation
and call it life?
