Routine

“Routine. Attachment. Driven.
Cell phone, instead of conversation,
punch, punch, punch and crunch
goes my brain as I ask “what did you say.”
I decided it is going to be different,
the phone will be off, the games will
be deleted and the apps, well, the
precious (can’t live without the apps)
have to stay.
Reading Thoreau and feeling as though
I am reading the answer I need to the
constant flow of old garbage, that I have
come to believe (not factually) smells
like roses.
How? When? Where is the strength
to stop this madness. The habitual
way of the sober idiot knows that 
laying aside the craziness for freedom is
rewarding. But the conditioning of
the television, constant in-your-face
advertising that makes me think
“I need that, I have to have this,
Where can I buy one–google it
for G-d sake!
Write about it and post it on Facebook
as though it were a portrait painted with
fresh brushes, and then walk away,
determined to keep it all as it is 
because laziness is easier than 
change.

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