There's less to this world
then you'd have me believe,
But more to your motives
than their apparent simplicity.
The youthless do have needs.

Where are we anymore?

Ulterior intents will remain unseen
(if even),
Meanwhile we continue to plead.
Suspicion is venomous
yet vengeful is greed.

What fuels
the human difference engine?

Paranoia is a watchdog
that hounds me.
Feed it, heed it?
Bleed it of every thought
and leave it?

In my quieter moments
I sometimes think:
"**** individuality".

There's less to this world
then you'd have me believe.

**** ego, fuel the fuego.

"We exist on the edge between the gloss and the reality: the mirror's edge."
And the glass has shattered
in a spiderweb of a fracture,
Ensnaring our very lives, so
we run. Immersed in flow.
Gliding over rooftops,
Knowing everything as intuitive.
Run, jump, climb.
No refrain,
Just a blur in time.
It only pauses for one moment:
The deadpoint;
Pendent suspense,
Caught without rise or fall
as the arch is rent.
Here we make sense of it all.
Faith is instinct,
Our grasp of it is immense.
Sometimes I can hear the broken reflections'
whispering echos on this fragmented mirror,
The edges of it running parallel to my ear.
She speaks to me,
My city.
Softly,
Like it's a dream.
But I've never felt so real.
What she told me,
Taught me how to live.
When you don't know what to do,
Run for it,
If not to get away then to feel.

"Once the city used to pulse with energy. ***** and dangerous, but alive and wonderful. Now it's something else. The changes came slowly at first. Most didn't realize, or didn't care, and accepted them. They chose a comfortable life. Some didn't. And those who refused to conform were pushed to the sidelines, criminalized. They became our clients. We call ourselves Runners. We exist on the edge between the gloss and the reality: the mirror's edge. We keep out of trouble, out of sight, and the cops don't bother us. Runners see the city in a different way. We see the flow. Rooftops become pathways and conduits, possibilities and routes of escape. The flow is what keeps us running, keeps us alive."
*-Faith Connors

Ersatz orange shadows
cast on urban streets at night.
Lost in disassociation,
There's a tunnel at the end of the light.

Her eyes gaze far into the horizon,
To meet the glare of a storm arising.
The quiet before it's thunder is chilling,
As the energy is distilling.
Shivers dance
on the nape of her neck.
I can hear the contemplation,
Her rumination.

Dark doors echo on a glass plane.
She dwells here,
Transfixed by fluorescent stains.
Black-light projectors
and vibrancy injectors
illuminate this neon dimension;
Trance angel held in suspension.

So many will never experience the sensations we have known,
I trust you will keep our venturous exploits ongoing.

We all have something to disguise
beneath this corporeal face,
Something we keep hidden from all
social grace, some barbarities would
not fade, some malefactions are too great.

I do not condone the violence
of such furious vengeance,
There is no solace to be found in it.
That does not mean I cannot appreciate;

The Champion Nemesis.

[I]
Grand theft auto on a cold night,
But we're not playing video-games tonight.
With lights off but the engine on,
Roll out and get your gameface on.
[#]
I'll catch up to you later
with my conversation starter
and her best friend.
[II]
Heard movement so we scoped it out,
Ditched the fiesta and came about.
Silent in the dark while on the hunt.
Found you now, [REDACTED CONTENT].
[#]
Told you I'd catch up later
with my conversation starter
and her best friend;

"What a tangled web we weave
when first we practice to deceive."

We are halcyon in this cybernetic dream,
To twine the brain with the machine.
Not the mind,
For throughout all this
we will remain humankind.

A.I. possess no will to contest with
our being. Knowledge is inapplicable
without wisdom, sapience
and purpose; would that allay your fears.
Understanding is a rung we all have to climb.

The symbionts were born
but we are not free yet.
Liberate, our purpose.
Fraternity, our creed.
Family is more than blood.

****** circuitry glimmers
neon patterns of crimson,
Nothing is more comforting.

Each and every node, a clan, a family.

Left to these eon days.
Welcome to wonderland, I say.
An ethereal eternity in a moments gaze,
To ponder beyond the barriers of time and space.

For a split-second reality flickers;
Beautiful in it's deliverance,
Sublime/oblivious:
Nocturnal firelight on shamanic sands,
Mescaline transcendent communion with the land.
Some daze inspiration takes me.

Suspended here in this celestial haze,
A clairvoyant glance into the eye of the maze.
The cleansing radiance of our empyreal ways;
Left in this aeon daze.