There is an old story,
From 1909 I believe,
By Mr. E.M. Forster,
Where he basically predicted the freedom and enslavement,
Of the Internet,
Video calls and all sorts of,
And to go further down,
The rabbit hole,
Everyone lives in little rooms,
Not unlike modern apartments,
Where they never see the sunlight,
Or sit for hours outside,
Next to their water source,
Nestled by greenery.
I remember my green childhood,
I stayed outside all the time,
Shat in the woods,
Drank out of streams,
Fought with my brother.
Another version of heaven.
I have always battled the modern existence,
Trying to live some sort of Kerouac-esque,
But they really don't dig that,
Recently I found an old VHS tape,
Of a movie called "Jacob's Ladder,"
Where this post office guy,
Thinks that demons are coming to get him,
But this Jewish chiropractor that always,
Cracks his back,
Says this weird saying:
"If you're fighting against death,
You're always going to see demons,
dragging you to ****.
But if you make your peace,
They'll always be angels,
Ready to free you from this Earth."
And sometimes I feel like that.