Stream of Conciousness

Buy and by we can sell the whole world to a mob of starving consumers looking to own themselves there’s nothing sadder than a blank screen so I will fill it with an image that is easily recognizable and even if I don’t know what or who it is I know that’s what I want I want to bury it all in my closet in terms I can understand like free flowing thought turned into cold hard cash that flows just the same into someone’s hands whos? I don’t really care as long as it’s there guiding me to oblivion of consumerism which is the only answer to chaos the only answer is to speak in your language because my working language doesn’t seem to translate dollars and euros pesos y libras is all the same word like self-imprisonment keep going towards the future keep it for yourself discard it when you use it a big rotting heap of ideas and voices calling from somewhere it could be you or your past but it doesn’t seem like you recognize it. So what? So where is the big after-party (after the show, after the blow and the ecstasy of finding yourself after having been kidnapped by that freak show) Now you question whether or not the price is even worth it, you weigh it against not knowing where you’re going and that never feels good so you take it even though it’s a stained hand me down that smiles when it should frown give me the mona lisa so I can eat her while I wear Buddha on my sleeve and a certified real soldiers bag that came from some fight for something or maybe this face that they told me was once someone is really no one anymore or maybe it has always been no one and belonged to the masses and that I can understand because the same thing happens to my reflection