Pushing through the market square so many people lying, living under bridges loving people dying. Everything is vapour now evaporating contact. Big Blue isn't on-demand - all its pixels have been hacked. I heard Spotify, Audible, and robot poetry. I saw tits, bits and pansexuality. They’ve got little bluebirds nesting in their ears, chirping every second, stoking up their fears of all the alien people, all the MAGA people, all the flat-earth people, all the different people - they’ve got to fear all the different people. I noticed someone looking for me with each glance exchanging vitals with the big brain way up in the sky - that’s a well-off-balanced contract. And capital is all digital, money is just another memory stick. A disk drive dumped on a virtual landfill holds all the life savings in the land. I think I saw you in a you-tube parlour eating epic rap battles of history. They’d cancelled all the wizards for sticking it to men - I don’t think they realised that was queer. And it was make-up, and reactions and unfunny bees, challenges on TikTok and people on their knees. I’m done with mansplainers. They bore me to tears. Let me get back to The Wasteland for another five years.
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