On The Grid Poem by Raj Dronamraju

Good times pagan isolation
And what follows is isolation of a different sort
Vice ordered in, take out depravity

Turns out I'm wired for immediate response
Together we use the instrument for civilization's collapse
No longer slap the hand groping for a risqué experience

Puddles of familiarity splash capable liars
In person, they are unremarkable and inarticulate
Turn over their tax records, reveal their fictional exploits as experts and lovers

Drug the guide and recoil from the lost skill of conversation
The plentiful argument, the uncountable image
Anvideo game where they create their own city
Create their own family - a wife and children

I'll create myself as a public figure
And this brand of public doesn't buy anything
They don't vote or identify themselves as flesh and blood
This brand of public is anonymous