Everyone is running
Dopamine dry.
Waiting, scrolling, waiting
for the next thing to try,
the next thing that reminds us
we are still alive.
We let the screens steer our souls;
they tell us when to laugh;
they make us collectively cry.
Why do so many children
want to die?
Can they hear the drums,
the constant background hum
announcing battle after battle
being waged for their minds.
When did we decide
to trade in the richness of real life
for this hollow simulacrum?
Have you noticed?
All we do is stare at screens,
each day another fever dream;
puppet masters pull our strings,
poisoning and polishing our daily feeds.
Our minds are the soil, that’s carefully kept
seeded for every season,
through us blooms chaos and contempt.
Will we ever reload to an earlier save
before this Matrix made us slaves-
not ordered to produce
just to consume-
to consume,
and consume,
and consume,
till we ourselves
are consumed.
Photo Credits: Annie Spratt and Caspian Dahlstrom ; combined and edited using Photoleap.
