A Selfie With a Tortured Man

 Oh,

killer of brain cells.

With every iteration;

with every tap,

you infiltrate the minds

of humanity.

An inside job.

You snuff out the ability to think

by seducing the subconscious.

We can’t live without you.

We can’t leave without you.

A distance traveled of only

one truck length is unbearable

without your figure

attached to the palm.

Soon,

we will walk through the gates of hell

with phone in hand,

snapping selfies with the nearest tortured man.

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