"Bit By Diseased Sound" (Entry 99)

I live my life in sound bites,
Trite audio tripe delivered in
Contacted minutes.

Minute mumbling of
"How are you?"
"Been up to much?"
"Good to see you!"
"Seen such and such?"
"Is that the time?"
"It's almost Noon!"
(A wave with mime)
"We'll catch up soon."

But always said in upwards inflection
"You're looking well."
I smile, say thanks, but in reflection.
I'd rather say, "Go to Hell!"

Add up interactions reckoning,
Sum total of 24/7 small talked
equals hour or so past beckoning
Into the abyss of time's spent walked.

To speak of books and art and
Dreams and fears and fantasy.
Long discussions of the world with
Laughter. I yearn for witty company.

But it's all I have
These seconds of gossiping chatter.
The rest is silence.
I long for stimulus for the grey matter.