2150: A Curse

Nothing vast enters the world of mortals
without a curse – wrote Sophocles – Feel

such infection spread as our attention is
extracted for profits by our need for hits

[all our higher purposes of love, worship,
great work & our begetting of beauty are

best served offline – away from counts &
algorithmic intrusions] – Steer your sight

up towards some kind of tactile God – in
your hands hold paper & a pen & write –

unplug – disconnect – do not click – resist
also becoming another imbecile product

of men with schemes in overseas silos – I
am equally a fool – We will still dream of

electric sheep & hold up a fake toad from
under dry desert loams – we are blighted

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