Digital gaps, no bridges.

Illume · 05-20-2015, 10:10 PM

___
Man, capitalizing habits for habits sake.
Our rhetorical hatred is placed to captivate.
The value today is in hurt, it'll have you deferred,
From compassion to nerves, and from happy to worse.
Language and Words. All this anger in verse.
We're tapping the worst of this well that is Earth.
We're a paradox and half of us are only half awake.
Castaways, Ocean's bottles trapped in a vacuum state.
When we pass away we'll be asked what did we have to say.
What we had to say is asking what point is there if we pass away?
We're here today, then taken. Can we look past the grave?
But we'd have no grave if we wasn't cast here for happenin's sake.
So what has to happen? How do we get past this fate?
What the fuck do we ask in this rap I make?
Does this virtual life mean there's nobody listening?
Is the universe oblivious to human existence?
Well now we don't even speak, what with digital systems.
There's no hugging or kissin. It's just typing and image.
The systems built to help us are the height of a hindrance.
All tokens and gimmicks, social erosion and cynics,
And we're openly willing to be slaves enlistin' ourselves
To this existence in a place where nobody's existent. Problems?
Problems: consolation, where nobody meets,
Coldest streets, empty lives, and no relief.
Empty words, imagery, fissure's deep, Believe me,
pixels don't portray how much of this picture's bleak.
Come with me for a suicide: Four hundred and forty people see a cry for help,
Three lines of text replies. Might get a "like" as well.
Then tonight we'll dwell alone in an olden hell,
Eroding self, loneliness. Salt poured in these open welts.
In a testament to the idleness of a lifeless age,
In a fight with fate, this night we'll cry, we'll cave.
The disconnect kills the kind we crave.
In a lifeless place we'll die. Bye. Escape.
Then benevolent masses will invade the pages.
Technology will speak and envelop the spaces.
There'll be efforts, tenderness, sentimental states.
But fuck it. Life's come by this night, a night too late.

05-20-2015, 10:10 PM	#1
Illume Senior Member Join Date: Jun 2013 Posts: 145 Rep Power: 671780	Digital gaps, no bridges. ___ Man, capitalizing habits for habits sake. Our rhetorical hatred is placed to captivate. The value today is in hurt, it'll have you deferred, From compassion to nerves, and from happy to worse. Language and Words. All this anger in verse. We're tapping the worst of this well that is Earth. We're a paradox and half of us are only half awake. Castaways, Ocean's bottles trapped in a vacuum state. When we pass away we'll be asked what did we have to say. What we had to say is asking what point is there if we pass away? We're here today, then taken. Can we look past the grave? But we'd have no grave if we wasn't cast here for happenin's sake. So what has to happen? How do we get past this fate? What the fuck do we ask in this rap I make? Does this virtual life mean there's nobody listening? Is the universe oblivious to human existence? Well now we don't even speak, what with digital systems. There's no hugging or kissin. It's just typing and image. The systems built to help us are the height of a hindrance. All tokens and gimmicks, social erosion and cynics, And we're openly willing to be slaves enlistin' ourselves To this existence in a place where nobody's existent. Problems? Problems: consolation, where nobody meets, Coldest streets, empty lives, and no relief. Empty words, imagery, fissure's deep, Believe me, pixels don't portray how much of this picture's bleak. Come with me for a suicide: Four hundred and forty people see a cry for help, Three lines of text replies. Might get a "like" as well. Then tonight we'll dwell alone in an olden hell, Eroding self, loneliness. Salt poured in these open welts. In a testament to the idleness of a lifeless age, In a fight with fate, this night we'll cry, we'll cave. The disconnect kills the kind we crave. In a lifeless place we'll die. Bye. Escape. Then benevolent masses will invade the pages. Technology will speak and envelop the spaces. There'll be efforts, tenderness, sentimental states. But fuck it. Life's come by this night, a night too late. Last edited by Illume; 05-20-2015 at 10:13 PM.