Brainrot

As one of many rare instances that
are bound to occur only to me,
This time I am found oddly seated
as an avid listener with a bunch of
teenagers for a round table conference.
Someone therefore raises a life threatening
issue of how ghosting is a seriously underrated sin
and therefore it must be made to accompany serious punishment.
I too sincerely nod my head as a silent victim of the crime in question,
For it's been over three and a half months now that my grandmother's ghost hasn't let me taste sleep in peace now.
Every night she sits in some undusted vertice of my room, desperately.
The teenagers laugh it off, excusing her to be a psychopathic red head baddie and hence my testimony as an eye witness is silently ruled out.
They aren't completely wrong,
My grandmother's hair is an ugly shade of red now with years of henna build up that perhaps would still remain even if she shaves her head off.
So maybe the agenda of ghosting can be dismissed as a maternal act of love, in both body and spirit.
Someone else raises another consequential concern of modern day love bombing and its life threatening repercussions.
However, I find it very difficult to make an agreement and thump the table.
For I believe in a chronically subduing world of warfare, with too many cases of hate bombing everywhere, this on the other extreme end seems to be quite counteractively positive.
Love bombed children at least don't choke under the rubble of delirium of those who think populations can be altered like pop culture.
It is a privilege to live in a world where roofs are bombed with love and ammunition is soft launched, hesitantly.
Hence, once again with the agreement of the majority love bombing too is voted out as an essentially threatening act of violence.
As for the final agenda of the day, another member raised the question if situationships are immoral for the new day experience of love,
This is where I am left tongue tied almost cocooning inwards at the edge of my chair.
A few other experts introduce implicitly confidential terminologies like breadcrumbing, benching and rizz,
For I am perhaps as they call a bit of a noob to decipher a lingo of the lovers of any age.
Because if I were to ever understand this fluency of love,
I would lose my ability to stutter in grief of worldly exile.
And as a poet I can not afford to trade my emptiness with a petty proficiency in passion.
Therefore the committee considers it as a valid proof to be called a poet's illegitimate yet perpetual situationship with a sadness that sells more than an ordinary solitude only ever capable of repelling words born for the sake of sense,
But nevermind sense isn't very sensational these days so we better stick to brainrot,
Another stolen artefact from a poet's dictionary who believes a rotting brain isn't deadly until it is too late to even call her a lost cause.