The Figment of Days
we are the squirrels and technology is caged us,
so ironic that this is, too, electronic verse
floating in the clouds, nowhere and everywhere
meandering as ones and zeroes
until plucked for the taking
time runs around, no longer hands
no longer ticking, just moving
nowhere and everywhere
technology like the people, lost
even words may no longer matter.
the discard of everyday, tomorrow no longer matters
nor does an hour from now,
we are forever on the run
missing everything, tossing it out
with the garbage we are doomed to be.