Modern Warfare

There used to be an off There used to be an evening where the messages would stop, a night with a bottom to it, a desk you cleared and dropped, a thread that didn't splinter, just one reply to send, an hour that belonged to you and did not route you out. Now you're running every channel like a wire between two fires, an errand made of signal, pushed from left to blinding right, from app into another, from alert into a ping, and the run does not end, and the run was never yours. 'Cause you answer and it branches in the second that you send, you clear it and it doubles before your hand leaves the glass, and nobody told you the front line was your phone. Every one you answer only breeds you two, every word you send becomes another war, there is no working down, no, not even for you, you thought you could keep the pace of it, you cannot, you cannot, you cannot keep the pace of it. (modern warfare) It ran you fine, then it ran you into the ground. (modern warfare) So a call comes in from someone that you love and you just watch it, you cannot lift a phone that weighs a thousand open tabs, the newsletters, the work threads, the updates and the streaks, the breaking news that shouts at you from every waking edge. All the companies that claim you, all the apps that wear your name, shower you in tiny battles, every red a little flare, so the one dear voice who needs you waits the longest in the queue, and the noise climbs up so high you cannot hear their single ring. So you shoulder through the inbox like you did the day before, the count, the plan, the answering you owe, and the numbers only tower, and the room behind you gone. Every one you answer only breeds you two, every task you touch becomes a swarm of more, there is no working down, no, not even for you, you thought you could keep the pace of it, you cannot, you cannot, you cannot keep the pace of it. (modern warfare) It ran you fine, then it ran you into the ground. (modern warfare) They said that staying reachable would keep you close to people, so you stayed lit up for all of them, and reached not one, the more you held the lines, the less you had to give them, and the thicker all the traffic got, the more alone you were. So your body started shutting down, too overstimulated, to pick up for the one you love, that single, simple call, if being always on was meant to keep you from the cold, then what, then what, then what was all of it for. What was it for (modern warfare) What was it for (modern warfare) There used to be an off (not even you) There used to be an off