1.

I consume too much.
I produce too little.
I’m the Atlas who shrugs
All his earthly cares
And keeps scrolling on.

2.

I await Grammarly Filters,
So I can write ugly
And blame the software
For not giving options
Enough to pretty it up.

3.

I ordinarily like and love,
And share niceness.
But there is a genius
In the way I outrage.
You’re welcome.