Disturbed

A Poem

The days are short
but my disturbance
is long

I am unsettled,
broken up, or
altered in some way

The very first
definition of the
way I feel today

I am the result
of emotional and/or
mental trauma

And that’s only
from waking up
inside of this abyss

The second
definition of the
way I feel today

But I don’t think
my disturbance
is an actual illness

Because how could
we not be disturbed
with this world?

The gentle back-hum
of technology prying
our decisions from
our own hands
and making us think
we chose to buy
that weighted blanket,
because of our anxiety,
when it was really
the anxiety that kicked in
if we didn’t get this
woolen creature
because it certainly
is the solution
to all of the world’s issues

The hyperbolic parade
of lifehacking gurus
and political grandstanders
and incessant advertisers,
all trying to convince us
that we aren’t very good,
but somehow also
asking for our money
to make us feel better

The phone that never
stops ringing even
though only four
people actually know
our phone number,
and email that never
stops refreshing even
though we never signed
up for 8,107 email lists
that were algorithmically
designed to whet our
appetites for personal
destruction

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