I look through the posts of my many friends-
A hundred likes here and a thousand likes there.

My heart feels the ache of wanting to be known
As I look through all my numerous posts.

Only a like here and a like there,
The dangers of social media I bear.

i press the button, nothing, shake
it, nothing still, press and hold, nothing,
nothing but black screen, try again,
plug it in—where’s my plug?
no plug, no plug, it’s gone and
all that’s left is the darkness…how will
they know? how will they know i’m alive
and i care? how will they survive if I
cannot reply 24/7, 400 days a year? how will
they know i exist and i matter if i cannot remind
them, remind in a buzz and a banner,
remind them that i am still here? just a
few hours but in those few hours i will cease
to exist because i do not exist unless you
see me.

it’s the sound of a city if everyone died,
as empty as pity in pitiless eyes.

She lived in my inbox,  
a constant pulse of memes and midnight thoughts,  
fragments of her days in a city I’d never walked
a movie recommendation
a reminder to sleep early
a nudge to wake up and try again.  

Even from miles away
she found a way to stay close
weaving herself into my new routine
as if distance was just another setting
to adjust.  

Her life moved forward in photos and captions
shared glimpses of places I could only picture
I watched, I listened, I responded  
but slowly, the messages thinned,  
the spaces between them stretching wider
until silence settled where she used to be.  

Yet
even now,
some nights I still hear her voice in my head:  
“Go to sleep early”  
as if she’s still looking out for me
somewhere beyond the screen.

I'm high on likes and retweets
The hearts, and flames and repeats
I'm an underachieving overachiever

A social media facade I've designed
A highlight reel, my life defined
But behind the screens, a different tale
A search for meaning, a life to hail

The validation I seek, a fleeting thrill
A moment's high, a lifetime's fulfill
I yearn to break free from this digital stage
And find my true self, in a real-life page

Daredevil laid dead
Dialed aid, leave dread
Viral liar lived idle
Vile drivel, aired live.

Evil idea, veiled lie
Real Reel, diva died
Dire dealer, ever realer
Revived, live, revived, dead
Revealed vivid red.

Redial, aid evaded arrival—
DRIVE, DRIVE, DRIVE!!
Evil deed, via viral
Reel, red river.

I sit here, posting, writing,
Yearning for attention,
Hoping for hearts I might earn
From the avid reader.

I check, and check, and check again—
Yet nothing takes effect.
My heart grows tender,
Dreaming of climbing stature,
But the steep hill looms impossible to capture.

Still, I post, still I write,
Determined to yearn and fight.

Begging by a million names,
A fix for the cost of dignity

In the wearing of a thousand faces,
True north gets lost by tide

To be oneself requires discernment
Through madness and through mood

A staying of course beyond the currents
That pull us to and fro.

Facebook has taken a break –
Now the darker side of me begins to emerge
As I struggle to remember birthdays without a nudge.

I can’t throw shade at an ex on X anymore,
As I’m deprived of the mindless scrolling, that feeds
A sickening eye on open to doubt Instagram feeds.

The relentless ticking of time feels slower
Without TikTok, and now I’m left to view my own
Insecurities without the distraction of YouTube.

We're attached to the screens
Like we're conjoined by them
Our lives drain before our eyes
As we drown in the Internet lies

As our fingers move in the scrolling motion
We're addicted to their anger-provoking emotions
And we stare at photo-shopped celebrities with love and lust
Wishing that they were ugly and sad like us

We'll text, but leave no message at the tone
All our pregiven love and time we loan
And when we're all scrolling, we're all alone
But we don't notice because we're on the phone

I spy
with my little eye,
something beginning with I.
I wonder
if the kids younger
than I, know what it is to wonder.

To dream
of all that's unseen
and the places they've never been.
When sat
do they know how to relax
with just their thoughts as they plait,

their hair
or ears of a teddy bear
adding a bow for a flair,
to see
all their creativity
at the age of only three.

And how
parents let them plough
through screens without
a notion
that this motion
is only just a token

gesture
undress her
she's no saviour.
As she
believes the he
is here to set her free.

Romanticise
see the prize
a body plasticised.
Naïvety
meant to be
girl don't you see.

Plastic
elastic  
please don't be sarcsatic,
she dreams
to be
the perfect thing to see,

but don't you see
it's not meant to be
she.
That girl of only three
now forever ****** to be,

Perfect.

A statement
not a standard,
so please don't do this to her.
Ignore her
for her
one day she'll thank ya'.

I spy,
with my little eye,
someone. Who wants to cry