for who would bear the lewds and jokes of time,
the spicy takes, the proud man's replies,
the pangs of online crushes, the server's delay,
the insolence of eugene, and the spurns
of birdsite users with unworthy takes,
when he himself might his timeline fill
with a self-boosting?
who would this content bear,
to groan and side-eye at a horny toot,
but that the dread of something other than masto —
the unfederat'd internet, from whose bourn
no anti-fascist is safe,—puzzles the user,
and makes us rather bear those instances we have
than fly to others that we know harbour terfs?
thus the federated timeline does make cowards of us all;
and thus the native hornt of selfie-posting
is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of discourse;
and enterprises of great wit and meming,
with this regard, their boosts turn awry,
and lose the name of shitposts.
A silly instance of Mastodon for queer folk and non-queer folk alike. Let's be friends!