I’m a tourist every day,
Breathing through a prisoner.
I only come home when I travel,
Only feel at home when love takes me away.
A creature malfunctioning,
Serving duty in a golden army,
With rusting metal underneath
And a plastic heart beating.
There are:
Too many messages
In words that are shallow.
Too many, too many
Never asked you,
Never will.
Cracked up humanoid/s
Born porcelain dolls.
I am fed up
With all of the artists
And the peacemakers,
The helpers, the cliche for every
Cracked up humanoid:
“They have to love you as you are”
Give you importance.
No one has to give just because
You have the right to live.
No one has to prove
You don’t have to.
I’m oversaturated by those who want to make a difference.
Who think they know better – you don’t know shit.
Because the difference is being done
Not being wanted.
Like me, share me, comment me,
Send me – don’t seen me!
I am the righteous!
The rest are just abusing?
Shut up.
Take a punch, take a sip, lay down.
Dance! For fuck’s sake.
Walk around without a selfie.
Respect privacy,
Try some intimacy
And with your pixel self.
You can’t edit your life,
It’s not Photoshop.
Neither scramble up the subtitles,
To make inspirational quotes and religious preaches.
They are not your words,
Not your truth.
The culture of copy paste must know
That just because you can integrate it
In your content
Does not mean it’s ever gonna be yours.
There is no love in the digital era,
There is love to be exposed with,
Known with, admired because of.
For more reassurance of your delusions.
You got addicted to the way information travels,
At this speed a society can be torn.
But you still won’t make a difference,
You’ll only make your followers to
Upgrade their exposure game.
You got addicted to how information travels
And because of the 90% bullshit of it,
You think exposure means something.
Think illusions can be more than a metaphor for a creative piece.
You don’t know the meaning of creative,
You just pasted it.
Tired of all the beeping, greeting, asking
The heeey I matter!
Matters are being taken care of,
You don’t push one, it’s not the BUZZ!!! From messenger.
The crazy motherfuckers,
Are the friends who make you regurgitate them
Leave them, silence them,
Because they crawled in your throat like a slime,
This century is all about supplying without an offer,
Supplying because everyone is special
The more extreme, the more one of a kind,
Because they treat you to keep treating you,
Forever – Socially, mentally, physically and emotionally.
If you eliminate enough facts every story can be a #MeToo,
To bring an audience.
There’s no such thing as bad publicity,
You’re already filthy,
Sliding down people’s throats,
Infecting their minds.
I’m day dreaming of unplugging the world
And hearing genuine silence
For the first time in my life.
It’s like I’ve been living in a laboratory,
Training with my brothers in arms,
And when their batteries ran out,
I started sneaking out at night.
Sneaking out in every blind spot,
With every lucky shot.
I can’t stop the experimenting,
They want to replace the plastic hearts with flesh,
But I can experiment
How it feels like,
To take out those who pierce my skin,
One by one
And embrace those who knock at my real door,
Sleep over,
Create this moment,
Not re-create to modify
When you feel like your whole existence is a lie.
Until their fleshy hearts will be replaced with batteries, too.
 (Alexandra Crisbășan)