when ears, eyes, lips, noses, are found inside formaldehyde cans with price tags and prosthetics make a new alley at Walmart when hearts are extracted out of newborns chests to be sold like gems when the sky has turned into the world’s largest billboard when it rains updates on our roots, for all foetuses grow out of smartphones when blood is replaced for zeros and ones when nothing but ego is to be found in the I when restaurants are packed with robots drinking wine when all objects in the Louvre are put into a rocket and sent to sidereal space for being junk of a dead era when the howl of deranged poets is diluted into the deafening volume of ads when the only job will be to swallow happiness pills when feelings are removed like thyroids when nothing is left to be said and done when we have sacrificed all chances of contemplating ghosts of suns and the primary and unique function of all things is to consume and/or be consumed: mankind will be a lonely boy picking up a pistol, one bullet in the chamber, entering the lone woods to play Russian roulette with himself.
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