Care-less Convenience

I am not perfect

I am frayed at the edges

soul, cloaked in skin and bone but I still feel—

I still care in a world

of unfeeling machines

that will do anything for you

without caring anything for you

I’m still a cathedral of human-ness:

pain, joy, anger, love—

all the glitter housed inside—

and that counts for something

in a world being

quickly sanitized of the mess called care,

called love,

drenched in apathy,

a world hungry

for the efficient productivity

of care-less

convenience.

-gh