March 24, 2025

Narcissus drowning.

Lifeguard merely yawning,

Obsessed by the fawning

Of an Instagram following.

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Life form floats in the pool,

One-celled structures unschooled

In a collective way to rule

That forms a communal glue.

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They have no time for reflection,

Nor inclination for inspection

Of their mass consumption

Of a twenty-four-seven production.

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The embodiment of Bosch's garden

Lures victims seemingly random,

Yet coming with reckless abandon

Drawn by the need for fandom

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Off to the side, the Gibbon's ignored,

Screeching he's seen this fall before.

With the Eland lapping ashore,

Won't be long before it's all destroyed.

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And yet I sit here at my station

Waiting desperately for a notification

That represents some validation

For my hypocritical situation.

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Narcissus drowning.

Echo turns away frowning.

All that ethos discounted

Now spiraling downward.