The Lie

Phone in hand 
picking up the dirt from the floor
the airwaves / something new to wear
like a selfie or a badge of honor
     The lie 
How it flowers, blooms, blossoms
How it meanders around the room
  and the airwaves / ear to ear
  fingers tapping
no affettuoso, but a crescendo
of  callous chords 
technology’s gift 
held clawingly, tight fingers wrapping
a self-serving clutch,
thrown in harms way.
     The lie
how easily brandished 
twisted and wrapped 
tightly around the garbage
it is.
black composted thoughts
  brought to light
  brought to the surface
like a pustule, the beginnings 
of disease, of a plague
and it blusters and deviates 
until soon a tempest 
changes the landscape
eradicates the ecosystem 
     The lie
becomes justified in its foul stench
strangers carry banners
pontificating their shallowness
and eagerness to believe
     the lie