Disjointed prose, dripping limited code
like mucus from the nose.
Is it a sign of progress?
When text talk becomes the norm
and as repetitive as porn.
Where babies are wired from the day they are born,
and doomed to life of illiteracy.
What say you my friend?
will the beauty of language end, as it first began,
Just a series of signs and occasional grunts,
and all of humanity painting faeces on the walls
In a bid to say…
I Love you.
All rights reserved by the author. Talia Hardy. 17.12.2010.