We all swim now, submerged in the noise of meta-data-exhaust,
Our climate changed by a constant flood of digital-audio-visual-content.
Many people seem to breathe this noise effortlessly,
As if they have suddenly grown gills, somehow.
Me - I flounder, un-evolved, unfit to survive the thick
atmosphere of information.
I gasp and choke on this noise, feeling like I will implode,
wondering how to grow gills.
I try to carve out artificial niches of silence,
Like diving bells. Like space suits.
How many of the others, who seem to me to be functioning fine,
Have, in fact, adapted to this? Or how many, instead, inhale
the poisonous noise
With tender lungs meant for silence,
and slip into unconsciousness,
And drown?
