P.S.D.

Phone. Separation. Disorder.

Ever lose your precious phone?

Losing it ain’t just sad,

It’s really fucking bad.

Paying bills,

ordering my pills.

Using it at the self check out

at Wally World.

Fucking hell!

Every fucking day using it.

Now my life has turned to shit,

cause I don’t have it.

Don’t have the money to replace it.

Don’t know how to live without it.

(A poorly written poem by a human detached from A.I. assistance; except spellcheck of course. Lost my 500 page dictionary in 1985. The world wide web has become too comfortable.)