iphone

There is a tiny Chinese man living in my iPhone.
Dapper and smiling, he makes smaller iPhones out of little tiny screws, miniature panes of glass.
I carry him around all day and he just works and works. The fellow never rests!
At night, on my pillow falling asleep, he’s still at it.
Take a break! I yell over at him, but he keeps working.
‘Kay! I’m going to bed, and then I just pass out.
Yes, it’s weird when I masturbate. I have to turn him over.
And when my mom calls to tell me mean things, it’s strange.
I think he’s listening. Her calls, they always drop.