Byzantium of Bytes

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?