Written in Cork, July 2026.
I don’t want to look at my phone anymore
I've seen a thousand ways to destroy a child.
Every notification is a small apocalypse
Each share a buried shroud
Hi definition unfolding a 4k horror
ENDLESS ENDLESS ENDLESS
Suffering.
My eyes hover over the screen
An oval hummingbird afraid to land
Knowing already that death waits beneath the glass
Where mothers are clutching to dust
and fathers carrying pieces of dreams
Dreams that were once whole.
This should not be possible in a world
that smugly claims to know better
but here we are -
Witnessing genocide though instagram stories
and thousands of TikTok testimony
Online - the modern town square of collective sighing
Scrolling mindlessly past advertisements of soap and shoes
Sandwiched between body counts and falling rubble
A capitalist obscene dance with catastrophe.
The way that profit margins never pause for mass graves
My phone buzzes
another notification from the future
Telling us that we are living through the most documented extermination
Archived in real time
For prosperity’s judgement.
But I don’t want to be a digital witness anymore
I want to throw my phone in the River Lee
And pretend this bullshit world isn’t burning
That children are not disappearing frame by bloody frame
Two pixels at a time
Whilst I sit here comfortably
Complicit in a mass silence
Yet I cannot look away
To do so would be another kind of murder
The killing of memory before it has time
To calcify the truth.
So, I keep scrolling,
Carrying these images like shrapnel
Embedded like cancer in my chest
Hoping they will transform into something more
The screen goes dark, my reflection stares back
I see myself as I truly am
A voyeur of suffering
A consumer of catastrophe
A witness to the unwitnessable
Here, holding a device that makes me complicit
In the very horror that it reveals.
I don’t want to look at my phone anymore
But I will
Because someone must remember
What we allowed to happen
While we scrolled.

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