Clickbait titles and a million fake moans,
Glossy skin and fluorescent zones.
Another “forbidden” tab, same old refrain,
Selling cheap thrills, but it’s duller than pain.
Perfect bodies in an overlit stage,
Every “plot” thinner than my minimum wage.
Skip the setup, fast-forward the lies,
Even fantasies lose their spark when over-supplied.
Porn is boring, it’s the same old show,
Recycled faces with nowhere to go.
What used to be edgy, now feels like a chore,
Click, scroll, repeat-can’t take it no more.
They say it’s taboo, but it’s mainstream now,
It’s harder to shock when nothing’s disallowed.
A million uploads, but it’s all the same boat,
Cheap thrills sinking, barely staying afloat.
Where’s the tension, the buildup, the tease?
It’s all mass production, no soul in the squeeze.
No chemistry, no passion, just pixels and play,
I’m craving something real, not a digital cliche.
So I’m turning it off, gonna give it a rest,
Let the silence replace what was falsely impressed.
If love’s an art, this ain’t the frame,
Porn’s just a backdrop to a much deeper game.
Porn is boring, it’s lost its edge,
A hollow escape on a narrowing ledge.
I’ll find my thrill where the real world’s alive,
Leave the glossy facade, I don’t need it to survive.