[Lars]

"The Return"

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A glow the hue of cobalt-blue accompanied it's bleeped, deft, vestige...
Alerting the dexterous thumbs of middle-management to the fresh presence of a text message.
Despite his best efforts in ignoring its incredulous sound,
He let it ring out,
While the cellphones face lit up and beamed brightly -
Much like his own as he read it aloud.
Before he jettisoned down the steps of his house,
With steeled eyes affixed on "Cn we meet up 2day?"
Needless to say his cellphones screen had relayed
the text message up on its scenic display.
His demeanour then changed with immediate haste
as the astute businessman seemed to pause,
And glean in thought,
with his smile opening upwards much like his lavish Lamborgini doors.
When reaching for his handheld phone,
Its shells chrome cradled in his massive hands,
Activating its Sat Nav feature which mapped and planned
his route around the interference of traffic jams.
Its navigation kept him a happy man,
and he placed his trust in its alert settings,
Yet he never lacked a sense of direction when it came to his work ethic.
He'd exert effort and deserved merit
for the enthusiasm he brought with him each day,
Yet the phone he owned had slowly grown from a must-have gadget to a portable PA.
It would order the names of clientele all by itself,
placing them right at his fingertips,
And provided a valueable lifeline while he was away from
the heartbeat of family life on business trips.
He missed his kids,
and thoughts of being unfaithful had never entered the affairs in his head,
Though when his wife rang,
he'd joke it was just him and Sam Tsung who were sharing a bed.
There was unbearable stress in his job,
which he somehow encumbered with verity,
Though his phones hundred 'accessories', had gradually become a necessity.
He had just sprung from the mezzanine
with his mobile's status set to ignore,
When it had dawned on him just how rarely he spoke to anyone in the flesh anymore.
He'd send them plethoras of texts,
but never remember to call or include his friends,
And so their friendships grew as empty and
non-commital as the exchange of messages they used to send.
His afternoons were spent in board meetings bored out of his skull,
Sat with accountants so dull,
he almost found it insulting how long they took to ground out results.
He found them repulsive,
a complete corporate clothes rack of faceless shirted males,
Who believed a child's concerning wail
was but an unwanted distraction in the heady world of sales.
Words had failed him as he again stared down at his phone with hard tenacity,
While wishing he could plug himself into the mains
to recharge his batteries.
But then he started panicking, while so tense his insides were shaking,
After realising his dependence on technology had meant he was isolated.
You could sense he was tired of waking up to the empty side of a bed,
And the countless nights that he'd spent away from the wife he'd neglect.
He wanted to see his children smiling again,
And to engage them in the vibrance of speech,
To make face-to-face contact without always having to lie through his teeth.
But by the time that he'd reached this conclusion and had his eyes opened,
The phone was flung in a volatile motion, then left lying with its insides broken.
With the device motionless on the floor,
he stood over the case of its remains,
As a sense of freedom fought for position against the determination in his veins.
And from that day he would change
as he prioritised the life that he lived,
He worked in a environment where time is money...
...but what price do you place on spending time with your kids?
It finally hit him that that which cost nothing but time to produce,
Could be invaluable,
Irreplaceable,
Even priceless to you.
And that night was amusing after the days upturned events,
Because the children didn't receive your standard SMS reply -
Their father was returned to them.




Peace.





Old shit. Dug it up from '09, don't think I ever posted it here?