Disorientation

Frantic, Adrenaline-fuelled Emptiness.

Fear comes in starts; stealing my breath

While persistent Time Rolls Smooth as a heavy handbrake left off Wheeling us unwilling Into unfamiliar views.

Two metres apart. We smile; it's not personal.

I seek relief in the forest of my phone; Hide behind icons, Find shelter in the branches of a screen

And salvation in reels Of updates to consume, gasping. Conversation agog.

Is this real?