What's to come

Have you ever used the way back machine?
Have you seen the world of today.
Could you really find any comparison at all?
Somewhere along the line we have lost our humanity,
while the Internet is all that's left of who remember it.

How it was.
Before the zombies took over.
Brains constantly craving for more.
With their faces glued to screens.
We called the mobile ones walkers and the ones who've grown too fat to move.
We call those the trolls.
All these people hide out in the darkest, most depraved corners of the Internet.
The trolls being especially vile.

We try to stay offline. Unplug. Stay below the radar.
We are a small group of survivors, hiding mostly in caves and jungle's.
Always on the run from their leaders.
They who own the zombies, they who created them.
We've named them Corporus Maximus.
They sold our brothers and sisters poison and we bought it.

I used to be one of them.
I used to believe,
used to think I was connected to something great.

Used to laugh at all the memes of mutilated woman and corpses of dogs.
Fed of hate speeches by Ultra Conservative Neo-Jezus-Nazi's.
I used to be just like everybody else.
Drank Coca Mountain Peps Energy and devoured Pizza-Hot-Dog heart-attacks for breakfast.
Sometimes with 5% actual Dog-DNA.

I ate real food for the first time, when I was 25.
A guy pulled a root from the land behind our house back then.
He washed the dirt of and told me to eat it.
He owned a farm, where he grew this food from the planet itself.
He was the one who told me where it all began.
How there was once a time people were devastated,
by a viral video containing random violence.

The farm no longer stands, it was long ago overrun by zombies.
Implants.
Their military force.
Men implanted with the law chips.
These chips sends the Internet directly into their brains,
where they search for "Illegal activities".
These chips also control the bodily functions,
so that an implant can be given orders and directions, to apprehend strays.
People who've unplugged.

We vowed to destroy the corporate bastards,
but 15 years into the rebellion and we are still too low on numbers.
Worse, many have fallen to the machine.
We fear that we may very well be in the last undiscovered camp.
Counting only 3000 followers, our future looks bleak.

My daughter Lain says the war will end in the year 2034
That's only six years from now.
She is a brilliant A.H.I and I fear that if her calculations are correct.
The humanity I've programmed inside her, will be the last bit remaining on earth.

Old man loves getting high.

"Man and drugs." Said the old man. "They have been in a cloudy relationship for eons now, Fredrick."
He continued as he drew a cloud of smoke from his medicinal spliff.

Old man Jones had rheumatism and had been eager for ages now to dance his sorrows away.
He used to be a phenomenal dancer, from ballroom to ballet and even disco or break dancing.
Grandpa Jones still went clubbing when Frederic was still a baby boy. Then he turned 60 and his whole life changed. He had to be medicated all day long, one pill after another.
His family had sent him to a retirement home and there he met Fredrick.

Fredrick loved coming to the old folks home.
After his real grandpa died, he kept returning.
Most kids his age liked to get high in the park with their friends.
He liked getting high in the yard of the retirement home.
These people had really stories to tell.
Not like the hazy clouded dialog his peers made.
But clouds filled with old dreams, memories and desires.

Old man Jones used to be reluctant to join Fredrick, Betty, Rose and Koos in smoking weed.
He had seen plenty of drug users come and go in his life of dancing and with these pills they've put him on, he used to feel so dirty.
But he had soon come to realize the benefits on his old and tired body and he was always curious what those old stoners were laughing about every day.
When he finally gave in he gave huge speeches about all these drugs he had knowledge of.
Betty and Rose would laugh it off sipping their coffee.

Fredrick would always nod in agreement.
He used to have a brother, Patrick, who was five years older than him.
He loved his brother and he smoked his first Joint with Patrick. But Patrick used to love dancing too. Clubbing mostly.

Fredrick lost his older brother, too coke and party drugs.
He was found on the toilet of a gay bar.
Ass exposed with his nose on the toilet seat.
A bunch of used wrapping was tested positive for coke.
His mom and dad had freaked when they found out.
But mostly because they had no clue their son was gay.
Patrick had told Fredrick all about that of course.
They used to have no secrets, but I guess he forgot to tell Fredrick about all the coke he used.

When he told the old folks about what happened, nobody laughed but old Jones. "Fredrick" He said. "Do you think he went out smiling?"

The doll has to go!

"Why was this in my room mother?"
Her question was piercing and menacing.

"I found Mary Louise in the mud in the back yard. I thought that you might had lost her. So I washed her and put her back on your bed."

Sarah threw the doll against the wall behind her mom. It smashed into pieces.
"Mary Louise was dead!! I buried her."
She was hysterical and angry.
She set her arms locked in her hips and took an Angry tone. "Big girls don't play with dolls!"

PS.
(foto belongs to Joyce Mars, https://www.facebook.com/JoycePhotoSupport )

PPS. (support! support!)

She probably has a boyfriend

She probably has a boyfriend.

"Hello, I'm that creep that posted something on your new picture last week.
Why haven't you gotten back to me?"

If you think that is creepy, then you are right.
I you think that is exaggerated, you must not have been to the Internet before.

I can not imagine what it would be like, to be a woman and surfing the web.
I can not imagine, what it would feel like to see the comment, "babe I love you" at least ten times per day.
Or "girl you're so pretty", for every picture you upload.

I have not the slightest clue what that girl must go through, when all the boys cruising her profile, ask her to go on cam.
Even though I don't know just as well, how they missed that part of her profile, warning all the creepers not to do that.


This is all a lie of course and even while I am still a man, using the Internet like all the other men do.
Cruising website after website, in pursuit of girls.
I find myself making excuses for my gender and their cock-thinking behavior.
I find myself consolidating those girls that keep getting all the unwanted attention.

Am I a pervert?
Am I a sicko? 
Am I any better, since I'm still trying to get into her pants as well?
Although she probably already has a boyfriend...
I wonder how they met?

Probably offline.
I bet he is a nice guy.
Not the Internet definition of a "Nice guy",
Some easily aggravated, skill-less teeny-bopper, who grew up on the words Bitch and Slut.
Who has a twisted world view,
Who feels entitled to her love, for the minimal attention he gave her every day...last week

Do they think I'm like that?
Do I?
I'm not really a "nice guy", but I'm not the kindest person neither.
"Would you be so kind to fuck off", is for when I'm going soft on you.
I try really hard to keep the rage inside.
To keep the noises down. To keep the voices out,
that tell me I am a horrible man, who must do horrible things. Right now!

Let's hope she has a boyfriend,
who will protect her from me.

Smile and be happy!

Fluffy puppies and pony rides with stay at home fathers.

Catholic school girls and kids who help their mothers.

Sugar canes and cotton candy.

Proper women and guys that dress, oh so dandy.

Tranquility gardens and nature CD's.

Good report cards and educational TV.

Happy smiles on everyones face.

SET IT ALL ABLAZE.

Overly Attached Boyfriend

Maybe, I should just strap a bandanna around my forehead like a hippie.
To stop this scratching and let it heal.
Because it's itching on my brain,
is this the way of how I feel?

For there are butterflies in my stomach and I have lost my appetite.
I'm afraid that I'm too clingy,
but it felt like we were tight.
Am I right?

Maybe I'm just paranoid, or preparing for the worst.
When will I learn to fight?
I flee before the final act.
Call for the curtains, over stage fright.

I love you, that I'm sure of.
But I'm too poor to buy new shoes.
Though will that really be an issue.
Are we that loose of a noose.

What is it that ties us together?
Is it deeper than skin deep.
I can't wait to reunite with you.
One more second and I might weep.

I miss you, in all our messages.
it's only been six days, since our last depart.
But living over distances,
is breaking the last pieces of my tattered heart.

A world between Internet and reality

We come home, loosen our shackles.
We undo ourselves, of our earthly possessions.
We feel at our best in the nude.
When we warm ourselves in nothing but our own bodies.

crawled behind the screen that is a door, to a highway of information.
we scribble each our own words, in a language that we are proud of.
cry out through a portal, to contact other lost souls.
that is how we found each other.

as we lay under this warm blanket in my room.
we look back at the short period we that we've known each other.
wishing it was longer.
But as we grow tired of our siblings and our old friends, as we outgrow our youth.
We become adults.

We turn off the portal, to this information age.
As We are between the two of us, just fine by ourselves.
Won't you spend another night? I whisper.
As we lay there together, confessing our old sins, lighting another cigarette.

Let's do this again some time!
I promise, it will be grander then before.
As much joy as you have already given.
I'll have a long time to repay.

Let me buy you earthly possessions, to which we shackle ourselves.
As long as we stay together I will protect you from the shackles of the rest of this decaying
world, that is living in the information age.
Why can't more people just find each other?
Find what they were looking for?
Like when you found me?