Evening Instants, Measured in Grams

Clearly, obviously
leads to obsequious 
articulations of sill
ab ick phone et ick,
sick as a fog, clicks
on a log, poop as 
emojinal as a night
pout at a bar, louted
with a little rectangle
and the eyes of the 
swirl asking, do
you like your 
self, do you 
hike your 
shelf, do 
you see
your 
self?