DOOMSCROLL

by Frances McGrew

Eyes crack open,daylight awakened from dreams - just barely.Reach across to your partner and pastto the little table, and yank your phone off life support, notifications trilling their existence
Fingers sleep-stiffened and clumsy,yet practiced, with muscle memory flip first to your vanity apps whereyou play the generous benefactor,doling out likes indiscriminately. This is a gentle addiction – playful fixation.
But soon you’ll see it – a close-minded post, a thoughtless comment,announcements by relatives who just want to play the devil’s advocate.It fuels a warp-speed jump to headlines.What’s new? What orchestrated chaos occurred while you were dreaming?
Then, coffee consumed mindlessly whilereading pieces composed to provoke anger.You devour a Homeric thread by something called a Bean Dad. Resolutions made to axe screen time hastily discarded because alerts and updates are clamoring with more on and just in.
Minutes and hours whistled awayto the tune of unconscious consumption.Minds frayed with the constant input of calamity – shot through with gold notes of optimismquickly buried by doom,and still you scroll.

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Featured in our February 2021 issue, "Obsession"

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