BB Grey–musings

“Each algorithm-curated morsel falling like manna from silicon skies, too perfectly sized to choke on, too sweet to resist.”

Google knew the recipe for the feast I’d been searching for all my life,

Each algorithm-curated morsel falling like manna from silicon skies,

Too perfectly sized to choke on, too sweet to resist.

Motionless save for lightning-quick fingers,

I waited at the conveyor belt of endless content.

Like a lamb to digital slaughter,

A mouse in the infinite maze,

Pavlov’s child of the internet age,

I chased manufactured dreams,

Believing my thoughts were pristine springs.

Bezos whispered through the static,

“Remember that toy for your departed companion?”

But I persisted, offering my raw words

To Claude and Grok, digital alchemists

Promising to transmute lead into viral gold.

“Is this better?” I asked. “More worthy of eyes?”

So I cast it upward to Zuckerberg’s realm,

Where machines pulse to humanity’s desperate rhythm.

Through Facebook and Instagram’s perfect prism,

Where life becomes a curated dream,

I fed my words into the digital mill,

Awaiting judgment in thumb-shaped portions,

Hearts or void—the modern measure of worth.

Then: Nothing.

Hope whispered through sponsored posts,

Promising love for pennies on the dollar.

I stood still as digital tailors

Dressed my words in algorithm’s clothes,

A scarecrow king in binary robes,

While ravens picked at authenticity’s remains.

But Mr. Huang’s chips fell cold,

And time spun faster than I could bear.

So I cast these words, unadorned,

Into the digital void,

Turned off the screen,

And stepped into daylight,

Remembering the simplest truth:

I need to eat,

At least for today.