Faces like two hams pressed into a lasagna pan,
duck-billed and sparkling.
Bathrooms plucked from a Fincher movie,
stained mirrors and towel-filled sinks
deemed the perfect scene for a
Mashed-potato cherubs shoved on pedestals,
photos of squishy-faced drool-spouts
more bragging right than child.
No one cares about your baby,
especially by the fiftieth picture
one game-invite away
from a virus redirecting every pornbot on the 'net
to the virtual pigpen of their doorsteps.
The hours I keep scrolling,
with each breath hating myself
almost as much as all of you.
Damn you, Facebook!
Damn you to Hell!