Never Touched
clicking the heart no glue, no paper cuts, no smell of old envelopes just thumb dopamine just nothing electrons transfer without meaning you don’t own anything your likes are rented air your comments are tenant farmers on leased land your scroll a slaughterhouse for seconds they harvest your pulse the auction, the farmers market they package your boredom and sell it back to you at midnight prices you get a hollow glow a red number that means someone, stopped for 0.3 seconds then the feed moves gone ghost in the algorithm echo with no walls click click click, collecting emptiness in 4K building a museum of things you never touched and when the screen goes black all that’s left is the quiet of how much you gave away of how much you gained the emptiness the hope established
My comments may be ‘tenant farmers on leased land’ but I own them.