Capturing the attention
Of the masses;
Hopelessly lost,
Mentally numb,
Embracing the rot.
Compressing one’s lifespan,
To a series of photos,
Filtered through fiction,
Cast to the clouds,
Setting the standard.
I am nothing more than what’s advertised to me.
I am nothing more than the content I generate.
Only worth a second,
In a passing scroll.
A means to captivate,
My pulse holds no weight.
The modern age is killing me.
I am nothing.
I have nothing left.
Waiting for transmissions
On a screen.

Waiting for transmissions
On a screen.

Waiting for transmissions
On a screen.

Waiting for transmissions
On a screen.

The value of life
Condensed to what can be advertised.
The value of life
Condensed to chasing clout.
Days move in circles
Filled with envy.
Days turn to nights
Blurring everything.
Claw my way from the cesspool
To rise above monotony.
My broken will,
Amended,
to serve myself.
I wasn’t meant for this.
To live like this.
So unfulfilled,
Longing,
For something more.
There’s a purpose in everything,
I know. I’ve seen it.
There’s substance here,
I know, I’ve felt it.
Victims of influence,
Drowning in opportunity.
Scrape away the cataracts,
To see the beauty.
Waiting for transmissions
To distract myself from
All the pain that stems
From my lack of will
To live my life freely,
As intended.