Our existence is wrapped up in busy fingertips
attracted to the alluring samples of scintillating screens
their constant updates filling our rapidly shrinking heads
But this touch has such little intimacy within its cerebral connection
where eyes no longer meet eyes; not light-filled nor even soul-piercing
soft, warm flesh not felt, and beating hearts not known
There is metal in our mouths now, that will stick in our throats
while impenetrable walls grow thicker to keep us apart
Until, out of reach, and each of us, alone
we will no longer remember how to breathe
Heartspell 