Tumble me dry, tumblr. Watch my face convulse, facebook, as I twit on twitter, flat-lined flitter, flutter over people’s flat-screen faces come hither. Buzzkill me, buzzfeed. Feed me nonsense information forcing conceited quizzed contemplation. Watch the world butter me sideways. Touch the touchscreen and feel my glass crack. Trip over nonsense, inflate my inner senses. Instigate me, Instagram. Pin me to the board, pinterest. Read me, reddit. Afflict me, amazon. Feed my jungle money, strip my rainforest dead, peel away my imagination until it turns red. Self-indulge me by taking selfies in self-denial hurries that skirt real imagination and innovation into fashion updates and tweets, repeat, repeat, repeat. Speak to me, internet. Don’t let me forget. Caught in your web, your net of compulsion, contradictive addiction completely addicting my hyper-mind set-straight shoot out all the information I find into my mind. Cuddle me with your spam emails. Humor me, ifunny entrails. Play with me, paypal. Online banking, take my money, get to spanking. Blow me, blogspot. Bog my blog with new followers forgetting how to breathe, becoming all about the speech and not about the person underneath. Yell for me, youtube. Hear what I can’t explain, explain what I can’t hear, don’t underestimate my understanding to equate commotion from collecting comments like a new comet. Fill my wardrobe up with those words, posted online to see yourself heard. Ok me, Ok Cupid. (Do I look like I’m stupid?) Grope me, google. See all my worth. Find out everything about me. Grin and grumble grotesque images on absolutely everything. Spy on me, internet. Fondle me, fanfiction.net. Adore me, archive of our own. Dance, my style, find me a flair or ship to roam. Blog with me, bloggers, so far from home. Yodel me, yelp. Help me find the place to be. Help me find a place to eat. Computers are not the only things that can set my spirit free. Download me pornhub, rub me gentle until I weep virtual tears. Extrapolate my fears. Like-me. Thumbs Up-me. Click-me. One free app and words with friends fills me up, dead end. Addiction to, contradiction to, addicting games group together, luring my weary brain into a strange, captured love story. A saga that never ends, only dies and repeats repeats repeats again and again and again. Ribbons of denial demarcate and deactivate my detox off all apps, the apple of my eye, but breaking the sticky lines between real and reality can get busy. It can get messy in a tizzy of time. Greet me, gmail. Let me encompass the world through email. E-late the progress. E-light the process. Don’t let possessive processors and tricky technology drag me into its giant data-coded clutches. (I’m much too smart and precious!) Let me be invisible after I log completely off. There, that’s better. Now where was I prof?
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