.Click.

Fake friends, fake lives, fake pictures, fake eyes. A generation of photoshopped, cut & pasted lies.

Would they know a laugh if they heard it or does “lol” just suffice?

Real fingers touch skin, lips kiss corners & crevices of bodies that
That keyboards can’t touch, no matter how many strokes
 And with a click you’re forgotten

Love becomes a quote, a phrase, lyrics in angst from misunderstood songs and displaced anger becomes lines of white haste swiftly relocating to nasal cavities, deteriorating from the inside out

Souls inside out

Ripped clean from the hinges of innocence 

Dangling arms and legs, strings that guide and overseeing hands tangled in their provocative ties

There’s no limit even after the edge of the cliff when nothing is beneath their feet but air, because society assures them that to pretend is to care

Fighting for nothing and dying for everything but the will to live, these young soldiers thrown into battle unprepared for the war on their minds as a means to their core

Swept under the rug of misfortune,

Misfits miss this and sequential hits to the possibilities of a socially conscious lift

They’re pinned down by their ears

And dumbed by the slicing of their tongues

Language is the barrier to knowing more


But the men on our currency fold and line pockets that disintegrate the keys to that door