Poem: Doors Close, Phone Opens
July 16, 2026
Photo by Faith Yildirim at Pexels
Olamide Ajisola reflects on the endless pull of the screen
Doors close. Phone opens.
Endless cycle. Endless repeat.
I watch everyone at once
while everyone watches me.
A meeting place, a hub,
a rendezvous
held inside a screen.
As my thumb scrolls miles,
I see past smiles,
frozen memories, pixelated
skills learnt, people met.
Forgotten trends,
friends who have changed,
versions of myself I barely recognise.
All in one chip and not the deep fried kind.
Ping! Screen lights up,
routine starts again.
Checking in on the world,
something bad something good.
I hope for the best
but the screen stays on
so I get no rest.
Consumed by dopamine,
chasing one more scroll,
one more post,
one more notification.
I look back with gratitude,
for what I’ve seen, what I’ve been,
but I can’t stay there.
Tick, tick, hours gone by.
Phone closes.
Doors open.
