9: Others

Masks in white light humanity is,

Perpetually clicking, liking in bliss.

Against time, expressions never fading,

But fades in frequent waiting.

Clicking.

Liking.

 

Masks we paint in numbers and code,

Our life our lazy tapestry’s abode,

Against space, fingers too frozen

But unfreezes in trances unbroken.

In numbers.

In code.

 

Masks that glow the world has become.

Masks that tell lives undone.

 

But once I looked beyond its electric shimmer,

I drew back,

Looked back.

My head hurts with the other

Faces playing in the forgotten summer.

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For this prompt:

Who was the first person you encountered today? Write about him or her.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us PEOPLE.

The first person I met today was Facebook. Facebook is a mass of faces and people. And I claim that an encounter with Facebook is a social encounter in itself, just like how those who use the website for maintaining (an illusion) of social connections would see it.

Of course, the lucky ones are those who are playing under the forgotten summer, because the sun reveals their skin, their faces, their being in its physical truthfulness.

It has been a difficult time for me recently. Sometimes, when I talk to other people, I don’t know if it’s me or it’s the sickness that is speaking. Sometimes it overrides my actions and drives me to retreat in solitude. Sometimes I barely sense its presence. I know how it strikes, but the when strikes fear in me.

I presume that the lack of posts and the lack of presence in Daily Prompt challenges means that I have broken the promise I set in this blog. So what is it now? A race to answer 365 prompts? 365 posts? 365 poems? I don’t know myself. This isn’t the last of me however.

HB2Me-0119. Kind of.

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