Cannot Program This
No syntax for consumption, no ideals worth the praise, no beliefs, no assumption, no joy for declining days. It has been tried, pushed and forced— you can map the body, not the ache; code the laughter—make it fake. No sense-making in this soul business, just wasting syncs and fading systems. This growling creation, outright meaningless, rebooting malfunctions to mend the madness. You can not program this.
©Samia Oldman
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CONTEXT
You are reading dystopian fantasy poetry collection the Hush Halo. After the Great Optimization a privileged group of people wired themselves tightly into the system by aligning with it and fully integrating. Systoics believe they’ve perfected themselves by stripping away everything that slows them down.
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Hey heyyyyyyy new style, new you! I love it, Sam! so playful.