Why I hate cellphones?

This little piece of machinery
works at its own volition.
Enlivens in the middle of night
and demands to be listened.

My heart skips a beat
when it extols an incoming call;
either it's 'You're fired'
or 'Let's breakup for the love of God'.

It dies down almost always on me
in the middle of rejoinders and repartees.
Notwithstanding modest battery life,
it altruistically bridges my boss' cacophony.

Many a time it tricks me -
sensing blues, reshuffles the playlist
and hither flux tritones of
profound jocundity.

It refuses to talk
when I'm running short on cents
no matter how critical or urgent,
it won't spare even a few moments.

It often fixes me in undesirable conversation
with cross talk and induction.
I fail to determine who's whose slave -
it's mine or its I am!