even the echo of the click
dies down
you wait for a split second
hoping for a revival
hang on

the sudden dead silence
kills the hope
total disconnect
there are no carcasses
left behind,
to rot and stink
so what?
is only flesh sanctified

and when hope dies
a part of you dies too
but who’ll mourn
over such banal deaths?
there is always
a bigger melodrama
in the cathode-ray-tube

we’re all obsessed
with blood, sweat and lust
we bury our hopes silently
without fanfare
as if it’s indiscreet
to even shed a tear
there is no voyeur value in it
no vicarious pain, either

yes, that’s an oxymoron
all real pain is private
first hand
deep down we know
and yet we expect empathy
and act surprised
when instead we get
a total disconnect


3 thoughts on “Disconnect

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