In the grand marketplace of ideas
In the grand marketplace of ideas
The pollinating bees
Are bored out of their minds
Their short-form lives are fraught
with battles fought and lost
my Timeline bears their scars
The trivial, the absurd have never
so oft stood in such proximity
The writing on the Walls never stops
or stalls, it pours so heavenly
A guy, on the internets writes a piece of shit they now call a manifesto in which with a bit of salad dressing of intellectualism he repeats ideas from like the middle-ages with incompetent “scientific research has shown that” sprinkled like cheap cologne over the internal meme network and other shitheads babycry that although they have 95% of all power structures firmly in their tiny hands they are being reverse-discriminated against or some other moronic line like that and then we have to read all those condensed versions of these debunked arguments all over and you kinda ask yourself why the fuck in 2017 are we even having this this should have been all over when I was twelve I really thought that when I’ll be big like now like forty-five the world would have been science-fictionally transformed and we’d all be like normal adults and there won’t be no more idiots talking biological nonsense well not in the “developed world” not presentable people in normal society and you know why it ain’t over and that the fight is gonna be long and hard that though progress probably can’t be stopped the reaction always tries to vomit on us all one last time that …
And so we drift alone
bombarded by deaf tones
that wish to notify: he said she said they say
you want to play or pay?
We drift, we drift alone
The hive’s collapse is near: the queen
no longer hears the buzzing all around
she closed the valves of her attention-
span to half a trickle of perception can
not be bothered by a conversation, when
comes the end
she’ll be alone.
