“The kids”

They walk and run, recess it’s over.
Their mind is an abstract husk.
Their babble is only rival with their ego.
That’s the name of the game: Ego.

They dress to play pretend.
You can separate them only by flipping a coin.
Their mouth is as big as thin their wallet.
Always looking behind their backs when the battery goes down.

Every day they go to their owners and masters.
Lifeless fiends blinded by their screens.
The void grins every time they press “Send”.
The scythe awaits at the end of the tracks.

Thousand of faces are drawn into the reflection.
Each one is a pit full of mucus and lust.
One to another, they blend in with the machinery.
Their life counted down by their megabytes cuota.

Even the wolfs are prisoners of the lamb food.
The renegades are ignored, they will succumb.
Big B. is salivating with anticipation.
Pretty soon everyone will be an emoji.

Not wind, cold, rain or heat can stop the cycle.
Even in death they message you for Christmas.
They are relentless in their gluttony for the lust.
World war IV will not be fought with sticks and stones.

It will be fought with angry emojis and mental death.
Brace yourself people of the future, your agony is us.
When they go off, they are replaced.
More pixels, more the fun.

You can’t turn them off
The airplane mode is the new generation.
¿Want to buy a ticket for this ride?
Mind you: There’s not a reset button for this model.

Originally written on december 29, 2017.