little automatons of buzzwords,
wearing our language like cloaks
revealing what reality we ascribe to,
naked underneath all our stereotypes
sweaty skin & tender flesh warm against
technology hugging ever closer,
overcome with viral fears because,
did you know, the media is a conspiracy,
the whole damn internet is an illusion,
maya, smoke & mirrors, happy to know,
there’s not a single reliable source in
the entire known world, so
where do you get your ideas from?
who are you talking to? who are you
talking about? if not through your vocal box,
your mind’s eye parched through with regurgitated ideas on repeat, wake up
thrown out like a broken record, wake up
burned like books in a digital fire, wake up
how did you arrive at your set of beliefs?
if not through a screen,
if not from a neighbor,
if not from a loved one,
if not from a scripted page,
was it spun from the double helix of DNA?
was it churned from the blood & bones
of your grandmothers?
was it a dream
or a drug that clicked like a key
unlocking the vast treasures within?
tell me, how we are all so enlightened
to have an opinion in the first place