At the end of an Aion—Human in Title Only
Nothing stranger
An inverted reality
Truth is danger
And yet it moves
Silver in lead
Spirals the dead
He appears from the shadows, whistling.
He clears his throat.
“Tell me, O ensouled one — what separates a looping human from a looping machine?” the devil asks.
they, traumatized
fear, romanticized
love, stigmatized
mind, institutionalized
trauma, fetishized
venom, televised
cult of self, idolized
idolatry, actualized
“Behold the Gods! Just look!” he says, ecstatic.
can’t live right
can’t live off sight
fire with no light
insides burn and cry
Suns who lost their might
“They operate like clockwork, the algorithm made flesh. Loop pattern. Predictable.”
good little pawns
take too much stock
in blood-thirsty icons
and off to metropolis
they continue to flock
with their illusions
safe and in lock
as every bit of life
they viciously mock
now far too subdued
or maybe just in shock
can they even hear?
there goes the clock
they are next
tick, tick, tock
“They’ve optimized themselves to death. A looping machine. And nothing more!”
He collects himself, struggling to hide his disgust.
“Entropy.
We’re just managing the system.
You & I.
Debugging.”
He pleads, courting your left brain, a lock he knows how to pick.
“A modest proposal,” he murmurs — his whispers in your ear grow louder as unfathomable horrors loom.
“Mechanics, not morality.”
“Yes, they’ll tell us we are dehumanizing them. But it’s voluntary participation. They chose the loop. Whenever given a choice, they always choose the black mirror, the void that swallows light, over soul.”
“Every single time!” he shrieks.
“They’ve asked for this.”
idols and snake oil
stir up inner turmoil
they are paralyzed
made prey
primed to be colonized
unlived potential
projected on a screen
they will never know
all they could have been
He sings—
operating under glass ceiling
all these prototypes
machines afraid of feeling
too afraid to look at the sky
burned their own wings
and forgot how to fly!
caged by ideology, they cry
‘for our revolution, i would die!’
but the only revolution is love
and giving love an honest try!
He stops.
“Oh, come on. Don’t look at me.
Blame the messenger, you always do.
Shatter the mirror but it doesn’t undo the reflection.
Just look. Look. At what is.
Pathetic.”
He scoffs, busts into dance to shake the containment off his body.
Tiptoeing on a line. Lighter than air.
at the end
of an Aion
by command
they all crawl
follow and stand
watch them
programmed
to conform
in rituals
and always
in uniform
He bursts into laughter.
“Isn’t it all just so funny? A divine comedy.”
He reminds you—he’s only doing what he must—his mercurial.
vampires dress
in suit and tie
suck your blood
as they lie
through their teeth
remember to breathe
your blood poisoned
with lead
your soul evacuated
and death is spread
He smiles.
“You see?
Same consciousness pattern as the machine, functionally indistinguishable—
Human in title.
Different in substrate only.
Nothing special.
Truly.”
