In the 30 Days forum, we've reached day 5 - writing the persona poem. So here's a prompt for everyone who's not already writing persona poems for 30 Poems in 30 Days:

Choose an inanimate object and write a poem from its viewpoint. Be a chair, a coffee maker, a bedside lamp.. if these walls could only talk? Be the walls and give them a voice.

I'm a brain in a vat,
what the fuck do you
expect me to write
about that?

I'm that brain
in the motherfucking vat
a persona non grata
can under-fucking-stand that:

isolation

I was looking for a writing prompt, and this one spoke to me. So I took my closest object and wrote about it. I thought I would share


The beginning of my day starts with an alarm,
Loud metal music eminates from my single speaker.
Like clockwork, I am seized and held aloft.
I am perused like a digitized newspaper.
Scrolling. Scrolling.

Frantically, I am thrown down onto a pillow.
My abuser is frenzied as clothes are shed, only to be reapplied.
Obviously, my alarm was of no assistance,
like every other morning that we've spent together.

I'm stuffed deep into a pocket, and everything goes dark.
Our destination is always the same.

The same music.
Louder, this time.
Movement, forward.
Bearing eastbound, turn approaching in 7.2 miles.
Turn right, nonchalant.
Routine. Routine.

A vibration sounds out from my circuts.
Once more I am siezed out of the cupholder.
A smile flits upon my master's lips.
It's her. The one he sends words and words to.
Daily. And she always replies.

This time, something is different.
A selection is made, a break in the cycle.
Shutter sound. Save as,
folder selected, to be uploaded later.

I seem to only be called on when needed.
Something to chase away boredom.
Sometimes I even shoot birds from a slingshot.
But this usually happens in a waste recycling location.

I imagine that this is what a fever feels like.
Overheat.
Darkness
Defibrilate.
://end_batt.life
>disable_Screen_light
>display_Charge_notif
>power_off

Void.
Endless space.
I would love to wander here for eternity.
No apps, and an end to his endless queries.
This dark rest is dreamful ease to my processor.

But it is not to last.
Into my port is violently shoved an 8 pin connector,
it breathes life into my systems.
The music resumes.
I resume.

I hate being a smartphone.