I see the morning sunlight through the blinds, blood illuminating inside my eyelids. I’m torn between gratefulness for being alive and pain and fear to face a new day. Stupid youth slowly becoming certainty, fresh mud turns into a hard crust around and inside my heart.

I spent an eternity wanting to see. And I saw, my God I saw. Her piercing green eyes accuse me through a photograph, a scanner, one million servers and a four inch screen. Lakes of oil burn halfway across the world as the ancient spirits reveal their secrets to us: a globalized, fragmented firework reality.

We welcome the age of artificial intelligence and artificial identity. We swing our doors open and the soul of electricity creeps ever closer to our neurons, to our chakras, jolting our family tree a thousand generations up. We use drugs to lubricate this communion with the future, torn between the desire to surrender and the desire to remain ourselves. We turns into I turns into the whole universe turns into nothing. Essenceless specs of cosmic dust carrying on our shoulders all the memories of the universe.

I long for union yet I am tortured by it. I weave a network of light with the same hands that I set bridges on fire. I isolate myself in the presence of the mighty Sun God, declaring my independence from the cosmic continuum, turning my sight away from the shackles that bind me to this world: veins and nerves and karma. “I am fruit” I shout, oozing, relishing in the perfection of all the tiny structures that make me who I am. But I am also roots and fungus and hungry ghost and hell.

Pitiful tangled codebase. Inefficient functions slow down the universal processing core. Nonsense arrays of data pile up mindlessly in my mind. Memories repulse each other: rolling swamps, warm, foggy and squirming with life; deserts on Mars where a lonely robot sees sights reserved for the dead. Curiosity let astray by an over abundance of technological capacity. A future that has been present for hundreds of millions of years.

I rest one hand on a Ouija board and the other on a smart phone. I build a shrine for my perpetually unsatisfied heart. In the age of revelations, a revelation comes to me: this is what it means to be a human.