How sad
To even think
We’d be lost
Without a cellphone

Or tools which light
Our darkness
On this path
Of lonely screens

Reminding us
That flesh
Becomes
Inconsequential

Where warmth
Or whispers dearest
Fade like
Wanting touch

For those who
Need not speak
But type
Their pleasures fleeting

Greedy
For efficience
As if it
Matters most

When words
And stolen faith
Have grown
Beyond distinction

Compared to bleeps
And glitches
Which dictate
Where we stand.

– J. Pigno