5/13/09
ToB. Reality deformers. Nirvana. Hell. Interactive reality bubbles. Stronger ones dominate, video game interface, cheat code enabled. Outside the bubble is a burning wasteland, suffering and eternal dying, none know rest nor respite.
Reality swipes across virtual touchscreen individual cosmos, an infinite amout of hard drive space for maximum pixel interaction. When two of these merge, truly immerse into one another, the power ebb bobs and rises up the ranks.
iPods become iPeople, identities squeezed into a FacebookMentalSpaceSlideShowSoundtrack, pinned to your lapel, in neon green with pink stripes. Embryonic entertainment, life rafts for the soul, what keeps the flames at bay for one more generation. The devil wants his due.
We're microscopic introspective self aware simpletons becoming a flare in the dark of unknown raw universe. Just a twinkle as we turn towards the light, fire scorching the shape of our collective face. The ideal and superman are the forerunners of new worldwide consciousness.
But just a pixel to gods of protoplasmic near sentience, gaining form and mass from the glare of our souls burning out.
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