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?