“Are we all ADHD?” my friend asks,
                               (an innocent joke, really)
but I can’t help but wonder how frag-
          mented the modern mind is, like
a bumbling bee addicted to its own honey.

Crack, the mind splits, slurping the sweet drug,
spitting trivial facts that don’t really mean anything—
    Who Wants To Be A Millionaire! the screen screams,
and I forget my thoughts.

But I don’t forget. Not really. The neglected self
     remembers—the body keeps score, like a sport
live-streamed, eyes glued on the screen,
     advertisers begging to be seen.

Pay attention to me, the mind begs, but is drowned
                  in the sea of colors and noise, of corporations
exploiting human psyche, our vulnerabilities.
         (“I must post to stay relevant, I must look beautiful to be accepted…”)

PAY ATTENTION TO ME, the screen demands—
       and we listen,
because a quiet mind is too frightening,
                                    the real world too boring.

Comfort is pleasure, we say to ourselves as we rot
on the couch, and wonder
           why tech billionaires live in this world,
                                 while we use their tech to escape it.