Waxing Cold

I don't want live inside this little box,
This odd contraption clinging to my hands.

Time scampers away, a foe I can't outfox.

Wall clock tick-teases me while my thumb scans.

Download! Upload! Binge-watch all my favorites now!

Greet my neighbor? Wouldn't that cause a scene?

I'm in control! Or am I controlled somehow

By my possessions, by a pow'r unseen?

More is less these days, and that perplexes me.

And my gadgets cannot bridge the distance

'Tween what is real and these images I see.

What is the purpose of my existence?

Heart's been hardening, closer to robotic,

A cold, data-amassing entity!

Will I choose to love in a world chaotic,

Or will these things I hold take hold of me?

© 2023 David Acosta