"It is true, I retract a great deal from my-generation,
I am no fluent talker of cyber speak,
My cables are weak, And digit compulsion often woes me so that I
,Just disconnect-and right where the remote control is implanted at our necks,
is an uncomfortable recline-
by which we decline to excite the children that we truly are-and we bore our souls to sleep."-
I write on yellow tablet paper and put on his bedside table.
then I pick it up and ball it between my fists loudly- hastily- with great childish fervor.
When he sleeps through the noise drunk on visions of materialism,
I roll the paper- mostly flat-
and walk away- leave it there for when he wakes.
I am a ghost of my own intentions,
I start them on their way, and laugh myself to death intstead.
Universe- what a prankster you are indeed.
