Bukowski says: We Applaud the Wrong Things

they line up

for the newest lie

wrapped in glass and WiFi

thumbs twitching

like lab rats

for their next hit

of dopamine

again

again

again

a man can starve

in a room full of people

as long as he

starves quietly

but trip on a

sidewalk

and someone will

film it for

likes and applause

truth does not trend

it smells like

unpaid rent

old cigarettes

and your father’s

disappointment

they want slogans

short enough

to tattoo on their forearm

long enough

to feel important

I once saw a woman cry

because her phone

battery died

her child

was tugging at her coat

like a forgotten thought

men argue online

about virtue

while kicking their dogs

off camera

we cancel strangers

to feel holy

and forgive ourselves

for being small minded

the politicians grin

like used car salesmen

selling apocalypse

with a warranty

and we sign

every contract

without reading

the fine print

because thinking

hurts

and if we stopped

for five minutes

we might hear

how shallow

we’ve become

so we scroll

and we clap

we crucify

and we call it

culture

the earth

doesn’t care

about your hashtags

and the grave

has no comment

section

I drink to that

not because

it’s tragic

but because

it is honest