seeing we feel this way

 biting frost licks our chops in waves

bittersweet poison refreshing a state of paralysis

need to make a call now: 'may I speak with God?'

soaked anyway, burning at the crux of this irony

would have been ashen, shortcomings

trust me for it has happened before,

no?

seeing we feel this way, pushed against the ropes

looking instead of listening, coping instead of asking

'how you been, where you heading looking so damm lonely?'

shaken to the core but never showin', sister I do not understand

how those words can break a full-fletch man down

is it hubris my undoing, is it trust in the process, was time my mortal enemy?

has the hour been? did I miss the current? am I under a fucking spell which will not bend

to my requests, no tutorial nor guidance in what is sudden and surely not my darkest hour

for dusk is solemn in fairness and sold short, 

coal for riches, gold for the hungry and the poor:

is dignity overrated in this bright new world of screens, fake smiles and selfies?

is a truer word side by touch for warmth exchange a caress not fueled by instinct

anymore necessarily than an algorism dysfunction can decode what's clouding our purpose

to define how to best display disaffections, I refuse to acknowledge 

where we are heading, what is a man to machine

if this be the shore that we came upon.