Frantically flicking through a catalogue of souls,
Pressured desperation selects, in rush, a husk,
To see excitement doused wholly, waiting in the cold,
The dawn of potential never so quickly became dusk.
The social devil has thieved from every bracketed age
The conviction of vision, and sweet words to hear,
The courage to approach and mind to engage,
Woe! The consequences come, but oh dear, how severe?
The steel of wit and humour corrode to rust,
Tepid conversation, as false intrigue, masquerades,
The pillars of confidence collectively crumble to dust,
And the colour of intimacy surely begins to fade.
Love is now a trifling by-product of selfish gain,
Wake to this! Our lust has been commodified,
Even if your darling lay in the swipes that remain,
Seriously, you would allow capitalism to decide?
So as desire to be desired just will not abate,
And you strut stressed but hopeful on algorithm street,
Know that connection and connection simply do not equate,
And that swiping was never the best way to meet.
On algorithm street
