Poem: Targeted Ads on Instagram
The wind blows cold and deep and bones rattle and clang.
The death of choice was signalled by capitalism’s birth, swaddled as it was in the illusion of options. Brittle marrow moves toward its own breaking point. The mildew of human grinding is all we’ll soon be left with; taint of dreams, hallmark etched onto screams. Bury us all.
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