Mr. Lurker — Three Years of Stories Watched, Never a Reply

Lyrics

The room is dark.
Seven P.M.
The blue light blooms again.

He settles in the worn armchair.
Thumb poised above the glass.
A little circle, a life about to pass.
There’s Sarah’s cat from Tuesday.
A bad tattoo from last July.
The airport sunrise, the silent goodbye.
He watches every frame.
He knows the brand of coffee, the name of the street.
A witness to the bitter and the sweet.

And your name is always there.
In the list of the seen.
A digital ghost in my machine.
A footprint in the server-side dust.
Three years of watching.
A quiet, one-way trust.
You’re the first to view, the last to speak.
A phantom in my analytics, week after week.

I posted the car crash.
The shaky hands, the broken light.
You saw it. Ten minutes into the night.
You saw the hospital flowers, the card from my mom.
You saw the slow, quiet healing, you were patient, you were calm.
You’ve watched apartments change, and lovers come and go.
You know the things I don't know that I show.
And never a word.

And your name is always there.
In the list of the seen.
A digital ghost in my machine.
A footprint in the server-side dust.
Three years of watching.
A quiet, one-way trust.
You’re the first to view, the last to speak.
A phantom in my analytics, week after week.

What do you do with it all?
This data stream of a life.
The mundane details, the joy, the strife.
Does it fill a space?
Is it just a habit?
The algorithm feeds you my world, and you grab it.
And you hold it.
And you never say a thing.

Swipe.
Another life.
Swipe.
The blue light on the wall.
Your name in the list.
That’s all.