Ze Eenternet, Yah?

Escaping from reality.
Long enough, they mix with self delusion.
Until the most well thought mind cannot distinguish.

My opinion, is better than your opinion.
For you can not give me the same self gratified feelin'.
There is no instant thought that I'll relinquish.

Attitude from ineptitude.

Dull joy.
Pressing buttons from pressing buttons.
The stranger must be replied to with disdain.
Here's my proof that passion does not even care.
Not living in the world, but speaking of reality? How are we aware?

The troll can't bridge lands of logical thought.
The architecture of no arch or texure.
Completely uncontexual.
Angry celibacy desperate toward sexual.
Like moths, attracted more to the light of our screens.
To garbage we find serene.

Neglected and pathetic.

Living off a decades old nostalgia.
While dismissing the rest of history that simply doesn't do our suiting.
History, written by the victors.
Explains why no one writes anything meaningful anymore.
Instantly bored.

Where long before,
Even the dullard wrote such well versed accounts.
Now everyone imitates with self-labled unique.
Suggesting incapability of critique.

Pointing with anger at the mirror because it moves opposite limbs.
Pointing with my left hand, it points back with it's right.
How dare it be so fucking absurd!?
OMG, I'm dying! Can you even think?
I'll tell you i hold true information, then see just a paragraph, TL:DR.

Parroting puppets.

Dramatic.
Fantastic.
Information at our fingertips.
Frustration.
Oversaturation.
Leaving us less knowledgeable than ever before.

It's hard to find the beauty in that irony.
With plastic thoughts poached,
Too busy to type on ivory keys.

Infight without insight.
Just tell me that I'm right.
Smog of the smug.

Fill me with attention.
No comprehension.
So fuckin punk rock, yeah!
Who gives a shit!?

Just waiting every day.
For what i won't remember in a week.
Fast speed, and moving on.
Blurred and alone.

Humble is merely a mumble.
To the disingenuous pretentious.