I am a prisoner
in the Book of They.
Bound in knots – 
a bubbling stew of thoughts;
vanities; insanities; calamities.
All day, hi-def, in
the faceless Book of They.

Weaned on coded drugs
that make us bray.
Non-stop, unglued,
an echo-chamber of moods.
Self-righteous speeches
by star-bellied Sneetches.
Harsh lights, cock fights, in
the faceless Book of They.

Where went – and how? –
those dancing days of May?
We disguised and weaponized
freedom of speech
to injure, to monger, to honor untruths.
3D, fact-free, in
the faceless Book of They.

What if – just think! –
They went their merry way?
Just Us, face to face,
no longer debased,  
Could we – can we? – close 
the faceless Book of They?