Naked, nude, exposed—bereaved
It makes me anxious, makes me peeved
As if I’ve lost a crucial limb
An arm, a leg, my brain within
Have I become just like the youth?
Aloof, detached, so uncouth
A person I don’t want to be
Obsessed, addicted, can’t break free
Email, texts, notes, and maps
Icons, buttons… apps, apps, apps
To reference it, habitual
Head bent down, in ritual
I miss each ding and beep and chime
Is this my life’s new paradigm?
Without it time creeps terribly
Hours pass unbearably
My love for it is criminal
It’s hold is not subliminal
It makes me sad, it makes me moan
To go a day without my phone.