so much for the information age

how many times

before

an imitation

of an imitation

of a thousand before

will be human again?

ive wrote

and written

and put my worlds into

bottles, myself a product

a victim of no esteem

casting them out

and over

over again

vomiting

into the sea

i am no better

than those profiteers

that i seethe

i am restless

i am ungrateful

i too want to be seen.

i caught a glimpse

before dull

the color

before monochromic endings

the passion in lines between

that birthed nostalgic

imitation

distracted by the lights

unaware

of the world left behind

i am

that imitation

born from a life

not born. i was manufactured

by a world of screens

when will i be human?