In The Clouds

In the Clouds

In the clouds, there will be no shaking journals or dancing diaries
Zero neatly scrawled pages of velum, with tea stains or tears
Absolutely no outpouring of love, nor bloodletting of any sort
So many confessions will be spared online

It is to say the future will read nothing of our discontentment
Spared the strata of our favorite illusions, in bound pages
Honest, unedited, discovered in its feces and scars
Instead, the clouds will pour constantly of disinfected rain

We will wonder how paper
If rough drafts. Contemplate pens
What early man scrawled and spat at the rudiments
Of sheets