As everything revolves around the ways of connecting within the digital world, our isolation overruns and as great our abandonment becomes, our soul shrinks with each and every day.
The chair which holds our bones ran dry, is now our everyday companion, our most trusted advisor and while the headphones scream or whisper in our ears, we long for desire. Human contact, physical touch, and sensations of words and the contact of the skin is but a faded image. Is this our society now? Will this change? How much we’ve got left until the next strike on mankind?
While our body has fallen into the depths of a dark depression, our spirits yet remain undefeated, awaiting the Ascension.
The faces we see are but projected emotion and an abundance of pixels integrated within a screen that hurts the eye. Slowly, but steadily our heads compress as our chest aches for a recharge. An embrace that removes us for a moment from this cold world of machinery. A kind of warmth that exists only in the imaginary as the lights of neon and hurtful white gleams torture the sight.
Perceiving people through their Discord status or the type of realm they escape to, indicates that there are other lonely lives flickering out there. The dissociation of the mind is rapidly followed by the body as the brain fades into a world of cloudy spheres where only music rules.
The traumas of the past and its people disappear into the domain of the unreal and the entirety of the brain is now filled with the sound waves of the music. The bass enters the bloodstream and flows through it with wild rage. The heart becomes a corresponding machine to the beats, while the body takes a rest. No tension, no pain, only the realm of sounds.
A few hours of escape from the harshness of the waking world where love is a lie, people are shadows and everything exists only within a certain perspective.
Machine and flesh humming together and beating as one to the sounds of the heart and electronic music.
The whole interaction glows. The people of the underground. Living in silent rage, flowing through crowds as the wind sweeps through the buzzing night.
A layer of existence under sight, we perish from sight and continue to thrive in blooming mysteries.
