Two middle-aged women
Walking down Fifth Avenue
Barely touching hands
I want to shake them and say:
“It’s okay now!
We’ve reached the future!”
Your future

Your future is my past
What I take for granted
I’m a step ahead
But in your footprints
My toe tips reaching a bit further than yours
But careful not to overstep
Our bounds
Not to offend The Man.

It would be chaos for hims
To feel what it’s like
To be an other
All culture would break down
Systems would cease
Structures would crumble
Society malfunction
Error warning
Y2K apocalypse

We don’t know what it’s like to have a system without Him at the centre
Derrida says there is no centre
hooks calls for decentering

Sounds confusing
Pass the potato chips
And the remote control
No, don’t put it in my hands
Anyone’s hands but mine

I want to be remote controlled
Turn my reality into tv
I just wanna watch me
Take me out of this body
Put me into the screen
Art imitates life
But life imitates tv
That’s ani
Not me

Where were we?

Where are we?
Reality tv.

Beaudrillard says it’s replacing you and me
There’s no here anymore
The present went out of fashion
In 2011
With the introduction of iOS 10.2.7
140 characters is all you need to get to Heaven

****Message Incomplete***
<<<Poet Malfunction>>>


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