Will right-swipe your opus
Or click it thumbs-up
Into an algorithm of
Swirling, potted creation.
I will abstractedly peruse
Your heartbreaking works
And imbibe your pains into
A trivial haze of continental lager,
Bathroom mirrors and battery warnings.
I will distill you into a cloud
Where your grace will be but one
Of many incidental droplets.
Your art will shiver under my touch
In time, I will come, even,
To double-tap upon the face of God.