An organised mess

Like my picture

We hunt for it like scavengers, 

We will eat the meat to the bone, 

Our hearts skip a beat, 

every-time we get a notification on our phone. 

I upload the bait at noon, 

when all my feeders are awake, 

I slow-cooked this one, 

with a black and white filter I baked. 

My life through the perfect filter, 

I hope no one has better bait than me, 

I won't feed them anyway, 

unless they feed me. 

I prepared my rod, 

and I waited for hours, 

but my patience wore thin, 

so I deleted my picture, 

and unfollowed those who have turned me sour. 

I use my ego-brushes,

when I am incapable of combing my own hair, 

hide the knots my ego says, 

only when we are straight and beautiful, 

is when they can stare. 

If not enough fish fall into my trap, 

if not enough people double tap, 

I remove my self-serving bait, 

and go to hunt for more, 

my self-esteem feeds off the likes, 

social media my drugstore.