Progress

 
 
 
Getch yer gimme
Pull that file! Collapse that case!
You are obsolete — unexistent
And ain’t no one gonna hire you in this industry.
Whatcha holding on to?
Whatcha going on to?
Whatcha gonna live for?
Got a score to settle while the dying’s cheap
Gonna find a rooftop and fire.
Gonna tap a neural gap and get higher.
Gonna hold a seance and retire.
Become a log a’rotting in the wood.
Enter eternity a nonfunctioning robot.
Captured in resistance, electronic impulses,
air tremors and interruptions in space.
We make no difference to a meteor —
any blind force that destroys without design.
We make no difference to our own kind.
Blind orgiastic miasma,
pressing, moaning, sucking in life.
Entropy.
Elegy.
Ontogeny.
.
.
.
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