O is for... On

It’s on.

It’s on, and I want the simple distraction

Of voices humming, pulsating; the room is less lonely

With accounts of the procedural offering solutions to the abstractions

Of each day.

It’s on.

It’s on, and I hear the lascivious dance

Of fingers on keys and screens while we open each door.

We tap and we hum, alert but oblivious to the ongoing trance;

Seeking something.

It’s on.

It’s on, and we gift a cool glance of greeting

Empty words divert and repeat, cyclic. Slap, my eyes are back down

And the tongue-thrusting frown is in place. Gaze not meeting.

Just reaching.

It’s on.

It’s on; we’re all animals with a common need

To Interact. Give me a piece of your attention – I’m starved.

A time-thief, in this affluent empty world where words are rain, and noises bleed.

Are you watching this?

No, it’s just on.