Live a public life in a private room
Like you would not dare in all senses full
Beckon on crawlers with witless fun
Credentials exposed and signatures unzipped

It is only a stage…so they say
Showcase an act…reward some friends
Punish the fiends…in **** pretense
false rewards for borrowed talents

Real friends in life…may not emoji click
Real wolves in mind…but friends by finger flick,
Hallowed patronage…perfect in falsehood.
Pictures and status…served to dangerhood

Blade the stitches that once were mended
Crash the home…popularity cheapened
Enlarge the circles of fishers hookers
Full in foolishness and wisdom killed

More pound, the techman…and less, the player.
Seekers of fun from peppered ghost
Hookers’ desire and vultures delight.
Awake o e-man and protect the real man.

In the olden days when Odin was here...
Ancestors, I heard had bat for a toast,
But from a roast.
Generational gap in pages flipped
Covered by the new breeds in reads
Have discovered death lurking in the dead.
What do we have here?
A clime. No, a county,
No, a country, but a people of all colours
Upon a boast not to roast the toast,
Fishes out death with her teeth.
While the creature performs the dance of death,
Strangled between unfriendly roof and tongue.
The column, the elution, the ****
The filter, the blood the virus
The mouth, the cough, the mask
The cold, the fever, the plague
Cries and accusations...
The forbidden must be forfeited.