Ephemera Age

How gluttonous of me.

Continuing on, pleasantly ensnared like a mouse on a glue trap

Eyes bloodshot, they're glued, too. White and blue light—

It's feeding me empty calories.

Gorging on useless words and talking images.

No— keep scrolling. You've been doing it since this morning anyway.

Half the day is already wasted. But I should overdo something significant.

It's too late, though, sloth is a sin too. I know.

I called in sick to work today.

Because you only wanted to exercise

thumbs and forefingers.

I'm having a mental health day.

Wow, you have such a hard life.

I guess I'll be here for the next little while, but I'll feel useless.

I still haven't moved, too much time zooming in,

Envy settled on her pictures to find any flaws.

Oh—she narrows her waist and plumps her lips,

But she looks better, anyway. Better than you for sure.

Skinny supermodels travelling the world.

They don't deserve it. They're copies anyway— silicon and plastic, bodies for likes.

I need to get over it. I don't know why I care so much.

But I keep searching hashtags for more,

Somehow I still lust for lives I make fun of.

Now go check his post and see if he's still with his girlfriend.

Oh, he is. Double tap anyway. Leave a kissy-face.

Send a hint! He'll never realize you want him.

Who cares if they're happy— you want him more. Like it to say it all.

I forgot—wait! That photo from the Summer,

In that tiny bikini, you'll look great.

Smoothing my skin—contrast, exposure. Saturate to sunkissed.

Make yourself look great, you have to.

But I was really uncomfortable in that swimsuit,

At least it looked good. Don't delete it. I won't.

I'll take pride in a false appearance. But I'm tired of fitting a mask to go online.

Oh good, you're getting lots of likes.

But it's not enough. I should have more.

And only 2,616 followers? Pathetic.

That's nothing. Do whatever it takes for more. I'm too greedy.

I know I don't look like that—

In person, I mean.

But if they think you do, you'll get the most attention. I hesitate to keep myself counterfeit.

But wait, look, I lost a follower!

Oh. It's my old friend.

Fuck her. What's wrong with her?

I remember when she trusted me with so many secrets.

Share some hurt. But we used to be best friends.

Post one— yes—do it, even better to use an anonymous account.

Ruin her life in an echo chamber, call down the wrath of media and fight to the death.

But I can't go on like this forever.

Well, if you don’t, you aren't sinning enough to succeed in this age.