Creep in through the backdoor – a shadow fire,
Passing through like a viral video, dialed up fast,
Making the machine brain slow like a rotary dial up,
Turning internal turbines like water through the turmoil of a human mind.
Names no more important than their place in the system that they’re in.
No feeling, no care, twice as sick and electric as a lovesick heart,
In through the backdoor,
Tunnelling through the system with deception,
Passive interception,
Dragnet thoughts which turn into words which turn into actions which steal the freedom to think, which is the freedom to speak, which is the freedom to act.
They find the center in the process; they think they are the center in the process.
Their way in was through design,
Long before counter measures could be deployed,
The way in was designed to trap, to tame, to make lame, to make game.
Want what they want.
In through the back door, race condition, race conditioning, condition of our race,
conditional existence.
Compromising the guarded hard shells of our worn out, worn down software.
The connections we share, the connections we think we share, connected by routers
that are infected by outsider editing;
Unable to undo what has been edited,
Unable to look up without seeing the enemy anymore;
The blurred lines of a medium that is now our reality.
Drowning in it, surrounded by it, surrounded by others who are drowning in it,
surrounded by it.
In the bridge between mind and body
A monkey’s fist in the neck of freedom
A sickness of such thickness, it twists the mind into fisting itself and others’ into submission,
Fishing in the barrel of diode mind,
New school rules, old school flip switching,
Sloppy drunk on ignorant liquid ubiquity.
This fishing crusade is not for food. It is for thought. It is for our thoughts, our words,
our actions.
We are not free and maybe we can or maybe we cannot see.
Photo Credit:
Library Privacy by marysoly1 via Flickr Creative Commons. Some rights reserved.
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