Somewhere in the user agreement we didn't read, it may have warned of this.
Regardless, you and I have been pick pocketed of our life's purpose and we are none the wiser of it.
Regardless, you and I have been pick pocketed of our life's purpose and we are none the wiser of it.
Beneath the veil of the blinding dream soaked lights, most don't see it's gone. For those that do, they search their minds for a battle cry that never was for it was lost in a series of small unnoticed concessions.
Concessions bathed in blinding dream soaked lights.
Concessions bathed in blinding dream soaked lights.
Plastic smiled dream vendors sold us a lie and robbed us of our legacy, while we were looking down in silent LOL. They stole it armed only with our egos reflection and we were too enamored to fight back. Dorian Grey put down it all upon the sight of himself and walked away from the good fight.
The vendor told us you could have it your way and we took it as a mission statement. He said the customer is always right and we saw it as a modus of life operation. The snake charmers massaged their prepackaged, sugar free lies into the loins of our lion-like pride and we loved them for it
because it was on sale.
The vendor told us you could have it your way and we took it as a mission statement. He said the customer is always right and we saw it as a modus of life operation. The snake charmers massaged their prepackaged, sugar free lies into the loins of our lion-like pride and we loved them for it
because it was on sale.
A concern for consumption that curtails creation, we keep calm and purchase on. We are a generation of can do who choose not to. We were just too busy and our $5 lattes told you so. Toned and tanned, we primped to look like those who did, all the while super sizing our lack of achievement. A high fashion magazine of low fat pictures with no hard to spell words, perfectly fanned on a stack of never read books.
We are a choir of soloists who can't hear ourselves over the screams of our accolades. An audience of auto tuned, off key rockstars, who stormed the stage leaving no one to enjoy the show. A pre tense of pretend, the meaning has been washed away in a sea of the insatiable need for more. The superfluous swell to quell the feared pangs of boredom. We kill time playing games while time kills us in the only game that matters.
So we like each other in a fake world instead of loving each other in the real world. We photoshop our personas with perfect pictures and hang hashtags to hide the chasms of our characters. We heart focus filters on our phone framed memories that beautifully blur our lack of depth. How convenient.
Style squealed YOLO while stepping over substance.
How fabulous.
We are a choir of soloists who can't hear ourselves over the screams of our accolades. An audience of auto tuned, off key rockstars, who stormed the stage leaving no one to enjoy the show. A pre tense of pretend, the meaning has been washed away in a sea of the insatiable need for more. The superfluous swell to quell the feared pangs of boredom. We kill time playing games while time kills us in the only game that matters.
So we like each other in a fake world instead of loving each other in the real world. We photoshop our personas with perfect pictures and hang hashtags to hide the chasms of our characters. We heart focus filters on our phone framed memories that beautifully blur our lack of depth. How convenient.
Style squealed YOLO while stepping over substance.
How fabulous.
7 billion unique snowflakes in a suffocating styrofoam snow storm of individualism. We are living in humanity's runoff and downward dog is supposed to make it all ok. We've achieved too little trying to look like too much. Yay us. We've searched for wifi instead of wonder and it's no wonder we tried to buy back our youth and instead were sold a cell phone charger that no longer fits.
Posed and primed with painted Insta-faded duck faces, we stand social media tall at imaginary podiums as we chant our wants. Wearing hashtags earrings, pre-worn jeans and busking for likes we're all rolled up in ourselves in a spliff-like yoga mat. Chanting...Follow me.
Just don't ask where I'm going.
Posed and primed with painted Insta-faded duck faces, we stand social media tall at imaginary podiums as we chant our wants. Wearing hashtags earrings, pre-worn jeans and busking for likes we're all rolled up in ourselves in a spliff-like yoga mat. Chanting...Follow me.
Just don't ask where I'm going.
We are together in solitude, tanning in the glow of our screens in an online circle jerk, praising each others rented accomplishments. A drumming circle in CAPS LOCK, going to the beat of our egos as we pump each others tired twitter tires. Good job on no job well done. A panoramic of selfies, we have coddled ourselves for looking beautiful while not breaking a sweat doing nothing.
A 3D world lived in 2D fashion 1 instantaneous gram at a time. We took what they sold, expected a full refund and all we got was store credit. We had it all and were disappointed when it wasn't more.
A 3D world lived in 2D fashion 1 instantaneous gram at a time. We took what they sold, expected a full refund and all we got was store credit. We had it all and were disappointed when it wasn't more.
The world was at our fingertips and we typed BRB.
So maybe go fuck your selfie.
So maybe go fuck your selfie.
