Disconnected

Modern human disconnection

I've heard that there are jungles
Where lines between souls are so thick
They flow like rivers.

Feet stomp the dust in rhythm,
No choreographer needed,
And babies never cry.

But back here the rivers are empty
And the ropes to my neighbors
Are thinner than floss.

I cut off bits of my body
As offering
Thinking the wolves I call friends
Might smell my blood
And come.

I used to be made of
Things that were sunlit and ceramic
Fleshy and starry -
The smell of fresh bread,
The strings of guitars.

Then they deconstructed me
Disconnected me
Until the only thing I send rivers to
Are glowing screens.