A Phone Away From The Computer Poem by Rhys Owens

there's a phone in another place,
in the room with the computer
in the house i don't live in.
sometimes i put it there,
and sometimes it's put somewhere
else by someone else.
and we get along,
as far as it goes.

no one has time to say anything else...
not filtered through the many things
as it sets, the one computer
that everything is filtered through.
when they're not on it or not.

and no one you talk to
is the person you talk to.
and nothing you say reaches
the place where you say it.

because everything is filtered
on the way through.
everything is turned insideout by
the return.
everything is changed by the time
the message is imprinted on your screen.

nothing you said was said.
none of the words you read are there,
not even your own.

nothing you said has survived
because you never said it.
all that you even think
is something you over-heard.

we can only assume they're still listening;
because nothing was said out loud.
we only assume that they're still reading.
if nothing is felt
it's because no one is there.