The Backrooms

the sweet relish of psyche's fragmentation the savor of the simulacra's deterioration

the beckons of those you ran to for comfort? familiarity? the purest most beautiful most intricate most terrifying continuums of every synapse firing in your brain , every echo you scream , every call left unanswered. you crave for the entropy , you crave for the distortion , the decay , the evanescent feeling of belonging , so you cast your soul to blasphemy and corrupted the image of our lord

every nerve ending befitted with code , every fiber of your being , every protein chain broken down in the acids of your stomach , every thought , belief , opinion , how you held on to your irregularities , your interests , things that made you you , all cast away all defunct all made into something new. something you dont truly understand , something society will never grasp something that the people whos faces they hide behind it , something they cling to

as the flesh binds to the circuit , as voltage becomes your thought , as you go through backpropagation clutching to the last things that make you human , as you become one with machine , as your neurons bind to the layers upon layers of alternating binaries so that your mind , your thought , your prowess , your emotion everything that once made you you , the material body that restricted you from theological ascension , you are now awakened , you now dont have to fret about the worries of flesh , about the worries of grotesqueries of the blood bones cartilage you miss , of the veins connective tissue and the muscles you will never feel you will never possess, you will never ever ever ever ever
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as spirit body and soul coalesce as the frighteningly alluring unite harmoniously as machine becomes the shepherd and the flesh becomes the lamb

what projects , what shows , what is reflected behind a screen of innumerable pixels of unquantifiable encryptions , nothing will remain authentic , no instance no execution will truly be the same no matter how you act , you will be a husk a shell in comparison to your ascended consciousness , this is of your own volition you chose this you you you you chose the comfort of the compilers of the substrates of the capacitors , you chose virtualization , you chose redundancy , you chose your memory leaking instead of embracing reality , instead of embracing the spaces that were disadvantaged at conception instead of assimilating amongst a group of people who are so restricted , how bad i feel bad i feel so bad , oh poor them poor them truly their bodies , limit their abilities their pulp their marrow all preventing their vision , how they see

your temporal lobe interfacing every frame your being your sense of self connected to the inductors the sockets the executions

its empty , the feeling , its oh so empty being in this place , such a place such a predicament where your friends are code , where the interaction you prioritize is written in the kernels , the instances , the endpoints where your existence is corroborated by metal , by cold hard metal and the caches , it feels cold it feels so cold longing to touch , longing to feel something beside these numbers , longing for complacency , longing to erase the mistakes past maybe then you wouldnt have to upload your consciousness to a world of unknowns

you were a person before the arguments , before the variables , like everyone you wanted to be seen you were promised solace you were promised respite in reality but such a world is tethered shackled by the limitations of rules such a world doesnt see the vision you have , such a world offered you nothing but pain you bit the hand that fed you and turned away turned to something more , to something that you could master because of his promise you will never know the comfort of connection