THUMP

By Patrick Moorman

I was eating cereal in front of a computer screen and 

it felt like the most normal thing.

.

The spoon gently dangled from my hand between my scoops.

I didn’t notice this. I was staring.

.

I played a colorful video, bright like nostalgia.

It was jagged and rigid but so alive.

.

I felt a family there, in the colors.

They winked and sighed and burst forth.

They came to me like a blur.

.

Their speed is like a current.

It doesn’t pull, I chase.

My heart feels it near;

Thump, thump, thump.

.

So many people with mouths open and eyes slouching.

We sit together in a circle, 

crossed legs, gaping at digits;

“Thump, thump, thump.”

.

We sigh and these wonderful, colorful strings

pull up smooth smiles, sitting in the center, yelling,

“Thump, thump, thump!”

.

So many brains stems floating in jars

with wires sticking out, slotted into a USB.

We talk like this is not a beautiful thing

but I find peace in the screen.

.

Another world that I call home.

It stays under my feet.

.

It’s like a red carpet covered with Cheeto dust and sweat and shame.

How wonderful!

.

Sometimes it pierces my eyes and lifts up my hood

but it never patches me up or gives a free oil change.

.

The DSM-5 worries for me.

Like a text from my mother at 3AM, it says

“Please, dear god, 

get to sleep.”

.

But how do I sleep when

this screen is my dreams?