Toxicity ~ Philip Brent

Smart phones are a boon and a curse
They unite, simultaneously isolate us
Rooted deep into our days, our purse
In oh so many ways they bankrupt us

Tech rules, talking, staring at a screen
Cut off from each as we communicate
To the fly on my leg, it means nothing
In caves, no-touch interaction our fate

Homes, offices, caves by another name
Cheaply built and lit, best we can obtain
No totems on the walls, hearth, no flame
Buying the lie our reason cannot explain

Claim this mud ball home, a sacred place
As we loot, litter anywhere we work, live
Swing round our star, found, lost in space
Will we take till Earth has nothing to give