5ive-7even-5ive

Giving this haiku
Lark a go. It is harder
Than it first appears.

Yoof Culture

Late-night analogies stumble from my fingers, and push themselves into the keyboard, twisting and bending pixels to their will. Their heat staggers out into the endless stretches of the internet, where they will tangle and whip in complete anonymity, surrounded by a hundred-million endless-other desperate poets. This sense of silence in a storm of communication gives an urgency to the urge within, and the typing speeds, a stattacco drum beat, the percussive rythmns beating along in time with the tinny music from the laptop's speaker. This is the reality of late night existence for teenagers; illuminated screens, and dimly lit rooms, whilst eyes squint at swarming social-networks, and at sordid porn sights, and at every different nuance of the internet in between, (though there are few other nuances to be found).

Whilst parents slumber, the young and unencumbered blaze trails visible only in statistics and electric impulses, and dance their way across the world in a blink of an eye, surfing a wave of information, knowledge, hyperlinks and hyperbole. Slang tumbles from their finger-nails and callussed finger-tips 'OMG' and 'LOL', 'Bled' and 'Innits' and 'ROFL's merge into one endless mutable changing language, that cannot be heard, only be seen.

Welcome to the yoof culture.