Prose and musing by Sam I am.
Writer of cyberpunk, dystopian fiction, and nonfiction. Plus whatever drives me at the time.
Prose and musing by Sam I am.
Writer of cyberpunk, dystopian fiction, and nonfiction. Plus whatever drives me at the time.
These worlds I create. Interrelate in their irrelevance to anyone but me. They circumnavigate the truth. as we all do. but these somehow more so. It is how it is meant to be. There is solace in their shelter. In their shade I roam. Out of view. far f
don’t hide from it, it lurks there for a reason. You can find meaning in it. if you dare. It won’t be pretty, and you’ll hate yourself for it, at least to begin with, I hope. If you stare hard enough, you just might see it for what it is. Or maybe yo
Generations lost to cracked screens.
Sharing links to forgotten dreams.
A world on display, curated for our pleasure.
A world of lies that only sells leisure.
Where do we go from here?
Ai takes us away, we disappear.
The mirror so black we don’t rec
I won’t let them win. They keep trying to get in. to get through the door. But I aint taking this shit anymore. Kiss the frog. That is the price I pay. Get these words out. Get them out the way. So that I can move on. I am what I am, so what the he
explain the question.
It keeps ticking, this time bomb. And we make sure we’re standing real close. Most people disagree with me, that we are, if not already living in one, sleepwalking our way into dystopia. They ignore what is in front of them for
this is what we get, and we forget. we put it there
or at least we allowed it to happen. we never questioned the result.
we never questioned the questions that got us there.
or maybe we did, and we left the gaslight on.
who knows anymore? the only
when will we cut through our own bullshit and find truth? when will the lies be worked to be undone? It is okay to give in. it’s not a crime, usually.
just because we embody it doesn’t mean it will work. it might not, and that’s okay. It is not about
king in your own living room.
I am lucky enough to have lived to the ripe old age of 21 before the internet became a thing, along with mobile phones.
I remember a time before now.
I am not saying it was better, but it certainly didn’t fee
It is hard not to become numb after a while. Especially when you see no other way, and even the end seems so pointless. Stepping off.
And for what? Haunting our waking dreams. And depression leads to boredom, and if we are not careful apathy, and in
We have lived many lives. Even in this one, we have lived plenty. We are not the people today that we will be tomorrow, and we sure aren’t the same people as we were yesterday. And we probably wouldn’t want to be.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t
I have to live with the voices.
I suppose we all do, but mine grind me down, in good times I am left out cold.
I live with things better unsaid.
I suppose we all do.
But it grinds me down when I should be present.
It takes me out of the conversation
The ghosts they come.
The good the bad and the truly hideous.
Haunting our present from the past and the future.
Spoiling the moment. If we let it.
They come often this time of year. When we look in the mirror, and when we don’t.
When we least expect it.
A
Noise box won’t listen. So, then neither will I. two can play that game. Why be designed to tare itself down? And if not designed, then programmed? If so by who? What? How? Distraction? From what? By whom? Why? Money obviously, is the easy one. But n
Nothing works the way it should, how we imagined. It wasn’t this. Whatever this is, is not what they sold us.
I could write a list. I won’t. I don’t want to bore you. There’s no point adding to your woes. And they are tedious in the desire to try an
grab it whilst it’s not.
It creeps in, the madness. And it is not a case of whether you let it, or how strong you are. It is not a case of giving up. Quite the opposite. It is because you’re holding on.
There is no amount of affirmation you make that
They'll break you if they can.
They will grind you down until you know your place.
They will take that part of you that is truly you, and they’ll have you doubting its value.
And when they do you will be too tired to fight it.
And you'll start to bel
drained of all uselessness
What is this country we live in? what lies have festered since before our very conception? We can pretend we have freedom, that this island leads the world. We can bury heads with ease; it is what we have always done. Some
It isn’t easy. Life. It is worth living, for the most part. But no one said it was going to be easy.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down, that’s what they say. That’s easy to say, and if you know who the bastards are it might be easy to do. But whe
I would be lying to myself if I wasn’t apprehensive. And I fight the wave of despair that they are pushing down our throats. In the hope that I won’t ever have to accept it. Because I know it doesn’t have to be this way, but I struggle to see a clear
Melancholy the mollusc had an unusual day, but they would never tell you about it. Some are just like that, it's ok, some are the other way too. It’s all about balance, right? Melancholy tine mollusc had balance, and plenty of it, so much so that the
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