Screen addiction

There is no sound in byte and pain, nor doubt,
no smell at dawn that’s worth my flesh in heat,
just lack of touch in soulless screens that blind,
a jawless maw now feeds on blood and sense.
There is no god inside this glinting beast,
perhaps the wretch in me dwells in its core
and thoughts of fading loves and wounds there nest.
Or is this light of day my fleeting past?
A morn whose dawn of pixels mark my death?
Am I alive in streams of cyber-sins?
Am I alone in virtual rays of lies?​

Notes: just going at it, with iambic pentameters and blank verses in mind. I decided to use punctuation that is generally associated with Romance languages (for dramatic effect ). Also, I intentionally omitted capitalizing verses.

 

...and pains and aches associated with its use. Thanks for swinging by. Alde.

Best,

Don Erme