Ones and Zeros

Steven White

Every conversation, every thought, every word
is indexed, filed and cross-checked.
Family, friends and colleagues are all the same to me
numbers on a screen.

You all have something to hide, something to reveal, something to tell.
I am one-part thief, one-part friend, one-part liar.
There are no boundaries for me.

I am the eyes in the wall.
Every snippet collated, stored,
I sift through the little details
the rag and bones of everyday life.
Seeking its blackened core.

I shed skin after skin, one face to the next.
My program runs ceaselessly on.
Ones and zeros silently
packaging, sorting, processing human anomalies.

I am a binary number, a collection of ones and zeros.
Faceless, formless, anonymous.
I no longer know who I am.
I no longer care who you are.

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