Offered up as sacrificial tithes to appease the social network gods
streams of trivial tirades against lost time, lost friends, lost faith
masking the actual ache of lost human connections: spiritual etchings
we make on one another when we breathe shared air and space,
when we look one another in the unique eye and feel tremors
of one another’s heartbeat as we reach out with tangible arms
to touch that which we only can imagine from our desktops or smart
phones, or virtual machinery–
yet we log on again, for hope of another day, another way, another
chance to feel,
really feel,
what we seek insatiably live chemistry to quell
that growing void we thought filled by text
or digital exchanges–
So eat up, you greedy news feeds and wanting
emails; quaff your text lusts with photos
and longing snippets written to grab attention
for the lonely web creepers who loiter daily
like Arnold Friend, who wait to pounce on unsuspecting broken hearts
and turn their stifled cries into life rallies
before it’s too late.
Word Play 