Screen addiction

It’s a young affliction

A life in fiction


Masquerading as freedom


Into a perfect Instagram shot.

Sold as real life

No strife

Just yachts and what not

The illusion of a level playing field

Privilege filter enabled

Money everywhere but never mentioned

Its crude to brag – plus

It’s not how you sell the bag

To some intoxicated teen wanting to

Live the dream

That you sell

From your cell, phone

By Instagramming your peach

Of an ass covered in sand

From some tropical island

In a yoga stance

Hanging from the arm of an unbelievably

Hairless man.

Straight into my home

You go

Upstairs to my ten year old

Who sits alone

On her phone

With a screen addiction

And lives

A life in fiction.

YouTube tutorials

Take her on a tour how to contour

So she can be like you-

And while she’s there she learns some auto-play lessons

For free too.

No search required its surplus to requirements

Although she didn’t ask you might like to her know –

If you film abuse then it’s just a prank if you have no clothes on then you’re just a skank, If you want to be a pop star then you better get skanky…

Free flesh flaunted for feminism – apparently.

Yeah if you earn £100 quid a click

I can see how it might be empowering

But not if you’re just some impressionable div.

Then you’re just a vulnerable kid with no clothes on posting pictures on the internet

For every Tom Dick and Dicky to lech on without consent.

Screen shot, on the spot, frozen in time, immortalised, forever mortified.

If you don’t listen to me then you’re open

To scrutiny from

Behind the key

Bored – a warrior

Your body -their property

They become

An authority on how it

Is supposed to look

On how well your eyebrows are plucked

Declare that you’re just asking to get fucked

Some even wish you were dead.

But don’t worry it’s not bullying it’s just trolling

I’m just lolling you up

The internet omits intent

Chill out yolo

Wow your such a blow



Write a tweet

Straight into my home you creep

Upstairs to my ten year old

Who sits alone

With a screen addiction

And lives a life in fiction.

And I can’t protect her

I’ve let her feast

I’ve forced a famine

I’ve made her earn it

told her she doesn’t deserve it

I’ve used parental filters

But still it infiltrates

I’ve changed passwords

Banned buzz words from searches

I’ve tried abstinence

But you know what their say about fond hearts.

Tried to fill the void with board games

Even dusted the books off

Started drawing cartoons of an afternoon

Took her to a Loch

A real Scottish one

So we could just sit and stop the clocks

For a bit.

Turn the pressure valve off

Release the steam

Forget the unattainable dreams

Shoved down her gullet at every click.

I checked her Google history once

Do you know what she’d asked?

‘What is the meaning of life?’

A real existential dilemma

She’d stared at the void that Google provided

And she filled it

With a real question

asked it for comfort,

For a purpose

For a reason.

Google replied with

Myriad links to things

That make life worth living

Like the latest ‘must have bag’

Fresh off a hairless man on Instagram.


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