Backwards Progression

Backwards Progression

Cheap fantasies and imitations,
Portrayed by uniforms of grey,
Or any colour you can pay for,
As they hook you in to stay.
Hunched over glowing monitors,
Typing in cordial lies,
The joys of 'speaking'
Is really disappointment in disguise.
The words choke you as you try,
To remember how to voice an opinion.
Instead you follow the crowds;
The oppressive majority in this dominion.
They know what's 'popular',
Though by no means what is best.
An hour in cyberspace,
Passes in two in reality's interest.
The concept of time or danger is lost,
As you prepare for another evening feeding;
Gorgeing yourselves in meaningless conversation,
And explicit videos with initial shock receeding.
Hiding behind a neon screen,
Craving attention with images of 'perfection',
Pictures that exploit your body,
And strip your dignity's protection.
Then a sound brings you home,
Your mother's speech demanding your presence.
As you try and move away,
Real life has lost its essence.
You realise you're twenty years older,
You remember that you let it pass you by.
You recall what it meant to be human,
Before you let your humanity die.
You unplug the wires,
Leaving the addiction,
Until you think of a new status update...