The Technicolor, rabid us

by Ralkkai

The Technicolor, rabid us
stuck to screen like cold syrup
eager for the vote
eager for the like and the share
eager to just let it all implode.
Scrape the syrup into a pile
and take a picture of it.
Another like and another share
propagating like a virus
wired in to the internet.
And everyone is a critic
and everyone is on display
in a public domain.
Electronic digital noise.
That is all that is left of us–
Turn the crank until
the whole thing becomes
a motion picture!
Turn it until your mind snaps.
Turn it and watch the world
become a graveyard
full of One’s and Zero’s
and we are tapped in until
all the energy is anthropomorphic.
War is kind here.
War behind CRT corpses
where the feeling is mutual
and the static comes
like blocked porn on a TV screen.
We fear it because we let
Fox News tell us what to think.
We fear it because Anonymous
is at our doorstep.
We fear it because of external links
and we can’t connect
and we will get infected.
We are already infected.
The time for worrying about
Malware is passed.
How can we allow ourselves
to fear this when
we can’t even hide from our
own shadows?
The Technicolor rabid us
propagate and sweat.
The Technicolor, rabid us
are already controlled
and we fight something that
isn’t even there.

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