Yard Sale of Thoughts

Black screen eyes,
floating in the womb of
amniotic apps
where nothing
grows between my thighs;
I love my babydoll life.

Eloquent pollices,
ombre tips talk for me.
The queen of compliments
in a skiff of gifs
on snap chat island
surrounded by swipe right seas.

The feed turns me on,
can’t resist
my favorite emoticons.
Instagram infatuation,
tik-tok never skips, and
his animojis signal devotion.

I hear the chime,
my feelings climb;
ask me for a facetime.
Something surreal,
bourbon and a beach background,
shoulders I can’t look past.

When the batt. dies,
I see glass,
black screen eyes,
surreal smile stream,
perfect Hypnos,
I’m a reflection of my soul’s
power-cycled dream.

_{“Seize the Power” Yonaka}

This is a fictional piece as I envision self-perception for women of the future. I do not promote the use of any of the apps in the poem.