Easier Street

Ever since we turned
       onto a street we were told was Easier
with the advent of so-called 'mass leisure';

more yet  since we were trained to chase
the latest  commercially-mediated strains
       of relentlessly-marketed  artificial 'fun'
and far more still  since our digital capture

what (since all these) have our lives become
       but unwavering efforts to either outrun
                     or keep contemplation at bay

as we seek without cease to evade
that ever-threatening sense of emptiness
       and loss of god   that stalks us all day

as it waits for a break in the flow of our feed
of slick hypnotic rot     for a long-shot chance
to jolt our souls free from their toxic trance

during those rare scary moments of quiet
when — blindsided by disconnection —
       we're swallowed by a terrifying silence;

when  without warning   we find to our shock
       our panic-primed selves suddenly caught
in that modern-day tech-severed hell of alone

torn     from the soothing simulated busyness
of our stimulating-silliness-filled comfort zone
of relaxingly unthinking  distraction addiction

— when we sink   into a state of deep unease
the very instant fate proceeds  to tear us away
              from the ginned-up hustle and bustle
              of our deliberately cluttered-up days?