in a room where wires refuse to behave, I've discovered a way to coax my phone into telling tales of its own - and it's having a decidedly extraterrestrial influence
my phone is plotting against me, fuelled by a diet of questionable selfies and bad Wi-Fi I think it's trying to send me a message – but all I get are garbled responses from unknown numbers
sometimes I think my wallet is secretly a character in its own right, judging me for every impulse purchase like I'm about to trade my soul for a used pair of socks
circuits sizzling like a sugar high, charging my soul with neon sparks Meanwhile, tiny alien overlords demand I replenish their snack stash of discarded USB drives