Being on Facebook is like being at a sour house
party
The host has skimped on sustenance
The remaining guests don't really know him or
actively dislike him
The organisers all went to a different venue once they
saw where it was heading
Maybe it is really late or maybe it never really got
going
As I scroll through the heckles and rousing song
Past the sycophantic chanting of robotic thought
The fun has died with the light of my eyes
If there was ever any dancing it is now
designed out and replaced by adverts
The venue is a market driven dive obsessed with
superficiality
The false veneer of a smoke machine generates
polarising click bait
The centrifugal force of change might rip us apart
The chance of intimacy is slight
Profundity profane
Insight inane
Hollow
Dry
Tinder
Ready for a fire
Let us burn down this house
Think what could rise from the ashes
When the cloud finally rains
Data free falling, torrential life used to serve us
all
Our dopamine no longer stolen could fuel a brighter
day
Concentration and connection would emerge
holding mugs of hot drink and a bin bag or two
