By Sheehan Quirke
Your platitudes are flattering my dear,
But I couldn’t give a blighty for what the devil is here.
After all, I can see the whole city reflected in your eyes,
So why look anywhere else?
And besides, you say, truth is we all have three eyes;
Instantly snapped, your face and a glorious filter to boot.
I say how can you travel the world and only photograph yourself;
Then again, if I were such a looker, I imagine I’d do the same.
I say how can we come to Sofia, to Cuba and Paris and Pretoria,
But listen to the same music all over?
My West can go hang himself and for Ms Fenty I couldn’t care less,
But you move so intoxicatingly well and this club just sounds so sick.
Look, my love, this love is soft and pastel,
I admit, our flower is blooming with adolescent beauty:
I’ve nothing to worry about and my biggest fear is boredom!
Why call me a narcissist, but I’m young and free and handsome.
I say, maybe let’s try drop the whole show,
Deavtivate, delete, disconnect- the king and queen of airplane mode.
Then you say:
Oh if only I had the guts I would
Yes if only I had the guts I would,
If only I had the guts I would,
But I’m afraid I don’t have them,
And if I never try, I bloody well won’t ever know…
Photograph: Hamza Buttvia Flickr and Creative Commons