phonehead

tip and tap and finger, swipe, feel, touch, swivel, cradle, stare – everybody HEAD DOWN avoid eyes, breasts, crotches, legs, toes, dirty heels, attach vision to battery-powered light, communicate, but not with us, with them, with there not here there your real friends, contacts, real dreams. this is temporary, definitely not permanent, a to c.

what generation you got? how fast is your internet? what’s your download limit? got a case?

he comes bulldozing through bumping the crap out of you, me, dust. he comes screeching noises, he’s no toddler, he’s simply an extension of hyperactive comedy. is this train going to Waterloo? is it? the tourist lost in naïve misunderstanding, scratching his head, hugging her baby, they’re holding hands, sentimental bastards. GO move, business, of course, cool, yeah, set it up, what’s for dinner tonight? everybody needs to know how much it’s worth, how many potatoes lie on a plate, how many stations there are left (cue ball-busting Tim Henman voice). everything has a price in desperation.

head up no head down no head to one side, bobbing and weaving blindfolded by bad jokes. just how much do you love your partner? can you express your love in neutral lingo or do you go all out (lost it) weeping on your knees screaming your passion into tone-deaf waves? tired. reflection makes you look beautiful, blurs blotches, flattens wrinkles, dilutes grey. it makes you look ugly, obscene, old, past it.

someone shuffles their feet, crosses shiny tights (forget about sex, this is a morgue) we’re all dressed the same, we all have neck pain, back pain and headache. if only, oh if only, what’s this new app buy it download it open and play.

Bogdan Tiganov