Burn Out

The App Store is so addictive that I've decided to formalize a complaint. In Poem Form!

Burn Out


Buzz buzz the Flies
swarm in formation Hide
in my phone in my mind,
my distractions, my lies.

I say, "pick up the phone"
         They say, "put her on hold"
I say, "stop playing games"
         They say, "burn out your brain"
So I said,
"Okay".

Now I burn up, burn out.
I can't see for the Cloud
and my head is a corpse,
the flies are her shroud.
I'm not helpless I'm blind,
my hands are bound, tied—

since when, since why
did my phone 'come my bride?