I think my phone is killing my concentration
As it’s killed the concentration of a nation
Big Brother need not chip us, we chipped ourselves
We tripped ourselves
In fact, I’m sure…my mind has been poisoned slowly
By babble and drabble seeping from its pores
I miss the the silence within sound
The sound my brain makes when there is no one around
The wind hollers and pushes me where I don’t know…
Perfect storms of ebb and flow
I feel untethered, unmoored,
My sails shot and my conscience bored…
Meditate more, yes the wise one said,
Meditate until you make it dead.