A poem by Forsythe

Its amazing how lonely
All alone in her high backed moral posture
Can feel looking at the population of millions of bachelor pixels
“available male 19 year-old and looking for soul-mate”
In baseball caps staring back at a bright orange I-Mac turning up the
speaker
You’ll ruin your ears if you play your heart too loud
Because pick up lines will only pick at seams of usually seamless tempers
And the wandering attention spans that are run over by a truck
At that deer in the headlights look I can imagine
Single and proud of wishing it away
Found in the tendrils of thought flowing from her eyes to the computer
screen

The pen may be sharper than the sword
But the only weapon here is a blunt keyboard
And an imaginary vengeance sitting on
Blinking past her nonexistent bedtime’s
Gaze

Because consequences unravel in this complex spider web
Being breathed in by flashing light’s
Eyes seem to be captured in like struggling flies
Refreshing the present
And changing time left left left right left click
Undo control over zzzz’s
And the ultimate shut down

Responsibility is hard to find in a collection of dots
That if you squint makes a picture
Love can be just as disjointed and inconsistent
As the many aliases of reality you can never keep track of
Poetry is a statistic when you scroll down

Because
She thinks and you can hear it
What love is advertised at .86 cents a week
And what happened to a penny for her thoughts
Its an offer
A bid
Subconsciously biting her nails
Places on her acceptance of a room of her own
Illuminated by the hypnotic glow of the computer screen
Like a dangerous beast in its serpentine cords and subservient mice
She looks at it through windows
Seemingly restrained
It guards chance underneath batting toolbars and popup adds with too much
mascara
I have more power in my pinky finger
Drops her fire wall

And clicks away her instincts
 
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