I was cruising the information superhighway.
My new Dell model 8300 was doing a sweet buck 20,
When I got off exit 0101 instead of 01011.
I quickly found myself in a seedy part of cyberspace.
The part occupied by the Dark Poetry gang.
I immediately braced myself for trouble.
One rough looking individual approached me asking,
"Yo man, you lost?"
"I seem to be a little misplaced. Could you help me out?"
"Ya, I can help you out. Whatcha gonna do for me?" He asked
"Whatever I can." I replied
"Great, I've got some new writes and I want your thoughts on them."
"Alright then. Let's have a look."
His stuff was total smut.
If I hadn't needed directions out of there,
I would have told him so.
Instead, I lied.
"This is a great write. Full of emotion. Keep posting."
I could tell by the glint in his eye,
This comment whore had just received his fix.
I asked my "new friend" with a properly inflated ego,
"So, can you give me directions out of here?"
"Yeah, yeah." He said with a far away look in his eyes.
"Just go down two blocks and take a left."
At the first block, I pass a saucy little number leaning against a wall.
She gives me a once over before asking,
"Hey sugar. Care to give me some comments?"
"Ah no. Maybe later, after I see what you have to offer."
"Trust me baby. I got the good stuff. I always return the favor."
"That's enough you whore! I'm not here to emotionally support you."
A little rough, I know.
But you can't let a comment whore catch you with your pants down.
She'll suck all day for a two bit comment.
When I reach the corner, I spot a disheveled man.
He is sitting in an alley. He calls out,
"'Cuse me sir. Might you have a kind comment or two for a poor writer?"
Ah, the need strikes the young and the old.
"Let's see what you have." I say
It takes but a moment to briefly scan the work.
Full of errors and misused words.
If he wasn't so decrepit, I'd tell him so.
"Wow man. This is really wonderful. It touched me."
"Really? Thank you!"
So I lied! It's not like I'll ever see him again.
I should have stayed in the instant messenger neighborhood.
As I pass a quickie mart, a woman stumbles out.
She is juggling 3 bags of groceries and towing a kid.
"Hey you!" She calls out to me "Could you spare me a comment?"
"I am in a bit of a hurry." I reply
"Fuck you then." She retorts
Comment withdrawal, never a pretty sight.
I quicken my pace. Shouting from behind stops me.
A guy frantically waving, approaches me.
Oh no. The first guy again.
"Hey man. I just finished a new poem. Read it!"
"You again? I'm not your fixer, leave me alone."
The look in his eye would draw sympathy from Saddam.
I am about to give in to the addict when a pimped-out ride approaches.
The license plate says: COMENTZ
The world's smallest billboard.
The guy in front of me rushes over to the rolled down window.
Someone in the car says, "I hear you're looking for some comments."
"Yeah, I just finished a new piece. Check it out."
It takes the driver a couple of minutes to pretend to read it.
"This is really good stuff. Keep it up."
The comment whore collapses.
Basking in some unseen afterglow.
WOW! A two-comment overdose. That guy was SICK.
My head is starting to spin from the oppressive emotional needs.
I toss a few worthless comments to the passersby as I make my way out.
Comment whores devour them before they bounce twice.