A Halloween/election/all of it poem about my least favorite new monster of 2020-

There is a rhythm to the movement

As your finger taps the screen

There is reverberation lingering

A sound that isn’t what it seems

A buzz, a beep, an alert

At least that is what you first hear

Then gradually a sense of hurt

Combined with a slowly growing fear

It is the howl of The Doomscroll!

As the noises of your devices build

Deformities of truths and lies unfold

The zeitgeist dreadfully distilled

Created by mistake

Now driven by its own volition

We all live in its wake

As the world we know is riven.

Gene G. McLaughlin 2020