I saw the inflorescence of my generation destroyed,

Disappeared willingly into pulsing bright dings of pseudo pleasure

Yet I could only mourn the passing powdery catkins

Swaying sugary as the sharp March winds 

Jangled them empty on still dark leaf mulch

Does it shock you that I obsess over spring?

Does it tear you apart to see the catkin so sweet?

Crushed beneath my soft fingertips

Whilst the nanobots schemed palaces

Of our doomed electric pulses.

 

Mark Zuckerberg (aka @EustaceTwigg)

ᐧ