We die where we sit, whether we’d
admit it or not-
we sit down in our roosts and peck our
days away, click by click,
under the synthetic glow of computer screens
and fluorescent lights-
like messages in scattered bottles,
we are sealed into those airless enclosures,
no sun or touch or nourishment
reaching our innermost words,
our messages locked within us indefinitely-
each line just waiting to be read,
waiting to be enjoyed,
wanting to be understood-
as long as we stay with the current,
there’s hope that we’ll someday be found*


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