Familiar strangers
No, you will not find love on a dating app.
You see me, pretending I don’t exist, like my space is empty
Last night didn’t I swipe you? Didn’t we have a friendly exchange?
Living in a city of ghosts, it’s like we walk through each other
Like touching me taints you, your fellow human becomes the ‘other’
I’ve seen you before, Canada water right? The jubilee line towards
—Westminster, you seem to hold a level of importance over there
Yet when next we meet, it is like two strangers crossing the street
No recognition of our existence, the world is too big for us to meet
And yet here we are. Stuck face to face in car 6, as the train doors shut
Anxiety kicks in as you look to your phone, but there is no service here
You didn’t download your favourite podcast, so now it’s just silence.
Awkward silence.
You live next to me, pretending I am a ghost in an empty house
We hurriedly close the door as If expecting each other to break in
The irony of chaining ourselves in, in a free society is lost on us all
Neighbour fearing the other, is life doomed for us all?
In the money hub, the 172 goes past the same places, so we will meet
The crazy lady screaming will cause us to lock eyes, quickly stare at feet
It is taboo to know you? It is a sin to even exchange slight looks or nods?
I am not here to hurt you, why do you avoid my presence like a plague?
The irony of living in the communication era is lost on the world
You and I would rather exhaust our thumbs than use our words
The same question, ‘what are you hoping to find on this app?’
Replies, ‘love’. On an app full of perverts who just want to cum and go?
We are delusional, and yet we act as though we are more awake than ever
Best friends will deny each other, but will show love to a stranger for likes?
Your self-preservation is only possible because of an app created to enslave you
We become less human with each day, our misery engulfs us once the camera drops
The recognition from strangers is not enough to hear and dry your late night sobs
Where are you rushing to? In this race the finish line is a casket, slow down
A like in lieu of words, a like in lieu of sobs, they will only record as you go down
We have been plunged into a future where familiar faces become strangers
And strangers become familiar faces. We are in danger. Send help,
From: the humans.
Shout out Wilfred Owen- Strange meeting.
