Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

Doom scrolling

Doom Scrolling

 

At dawn of morning,

Alarm gives a warning,

“The day is starting”

Sleep deficient dreams clearing,

After a set of washing,

I start scrolling.

While eating, I scroll;

To make bland

 food ,spicy 

And a spicy one

 as bread.

While in crowds,

I scroll and surf

Through net;

As I ignore them all-set.

In alone I scroll,

To make the mayhem

Of being in a group so fit.

Scroll to be happy,

To be unthinking,

To be content

And also to forget sad,

In unhappiness.

Scrolling in frustration,

Scrolling as a distraction,

Thumbs developed callouses

And frequent in my masses.

As the evening approaches,

I shall scroll,

To not miss out anything 

While missing them all.

I might scroll,

To pass time,

Finding raps that rhyme,

While people's tastes,

Changing time to time,

I went with the flow

Oh my precious times.

I scroll to catch up friends,

While running from their unattainable standards.

In trains, we scroll;

Some falls out of sync, we troll;

Having aimless goal,

While positivity slowly went to a black hole.

Ai they said,

Stepping stones-Humans laid,

Slowly making us bed-rot,

With spread of brain-rot,

While riches sweat

On a Globe-Trott.

 

 

It is cheap,

Than we thought,

Saves us in all our plight

But we reap

What we have sown.

Strains of my eyes,

Reached new heights.

But I scrolled to ease the pains.

 

People celebrate,

Some show-off,

Grieve and argue,

But this seems like a entertainment, of high-value;

I kept scrolling,

Emotions numbed

And over saturated arts;

Hands trembling without it,

Brain chemistry of a drunkard.

 

 

Every actions; being watched,

Hence scrutinized,

Ultimately judged,

Everyone's expectations; to be met.

If not,

Get ready for a meta physical cyber attack;

From spider monkeys of the web , the new age  

shut- in, hermit-ed sage(s)

 

Faces; distorted

Voices; engineered

Opinions; exaggerated

But I never stopped scrolling.

Couldn't stop it; is the feeling.

Scammers flooding

Just one trip;

Lifetime savings in bank

Takes trip in night

 to return on February 30th.

 

Everything feels too short,

But small leaps feels like a lot,

Everything now has a slot,

A inflexible parking - lot;

Forgot to talk to shopkeeper,

All thanks to that “shop in app”.

 

Phones; radiates heat

People; heart's a cold sink

As they know more,

They felt like

Antarctica.

 

My eyes red

Hands sore

 

Neck aches

And stature crooks.

Fingers knew nothing but scroll.

Still I scroll,

To find a way out of it.

 

phonesocial mediatrapped in addictiondelusionnumbing senses

◄ From doors of despair to my dear almighty

Melancholics of the monsoon ►

Comments

No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message