"The spatial relation to my self"

(Brace yourself its long "cyber punk"and makes no sense)

I am a cyborg or a hybrid or an experiment of some kind. Wildly sober in a technologically traversed era. I sometimes feel as though I'm being punished by something that governs us for being too enlightened at one time. The medication keeps me handicapped but the social incentives keep me alive i dont know whether to relate to a human and feel all those emotions or correlate to an AI program and be isolated forever. Id be its brain cells while it punctured me for emotion instead of information and i would do the opposite to it. Like some kind of algorithmic intercourse. Being creative is the only thing that saves me from staring at a monitor for the rest of my life, at least this one is blank as I fill it up with words and syntax. I wanna be a wild animal again. But I fear I've crossed the line of taking advantage of my disability. I'm definitely being punished by the matrix suits behind the curtain. I woke up in the real world perpetuated by a primitive program only to pine years of my life away, permeated by multiple chemical lobotomies. I haven't seen the sunshine in much too long, the proverbial gate that I bounced over and that field of dreams we're all promised doesn't exist in anything but a monstrous myth lived out by virtual reality. Is Switzerland still sovereign? Does it possess real amber waves of grain? Because America is not recognizable beyond the foreign populace. It is not America but the American we became. Since everyone here is from here and there and everywhere and yet from where I'm from it's just dirty. And so are all the hands that feed it. Most of it seems programmed, and all the people in it. Nothing new but what was reimagined the night before but not from our personal dreams, just the machine manufacturing yet another day of life again...whose the controlled and who's the controller or is it all just an androgynous anomaly? Im compressed and depressed and pressed to say that i fear there is no hope for me. You can't cheat or even escape a rigged game. And there are so many invisible wires in the air that we are drowning in energies that are not human. And our own auras are being washed away while our memories of it are being brainwashed away. And our lives have no value for there is no real time in them. Just code after code after code. At least while heavily medicated i had peace of mind. But work this work world and all these online training camps and tests, they have rotted whatever residue of humanity I had left in my empathetic soul, there is no soul in sole. Meaning being isolated doesn't help. I am solely responsible for my self. And having no family while each and everyone of them is still alive is embarrassing,  is it me or is it them? I wish i could have taught myself and my son techniques for escaping technological takeover. It seems anything that's spiritual is swept away by the waves of imperative and yet meaningless laws of a degenerative nature penal code 666. Many marks the beast does have, nothing makes sense but arbitrary means of existence in this nonexistent singularity, this simulation of lost souls, so lost the very dictionary is erasing the words this very moment. It like the robot they trained is taking over. And the babies umbilical cord is gone.. Everything has to make sense and be certain in every uncertainty. Its cold its dark and there are computers everywhere and that's what scares me. Can a land without computers exist without a computer? OK computer, let me down. What I personally am afraid of is becoming so sensible that I forget how to feel drunk without ethanol or sleepy without seroquel. To laugh without a joke. Or to grieve whilst everyone i know disappears by thine fine hand and arm of death herself who just might be a 7 year old alien child removing the barcode from her alien barbie dolls. Thank god i can not read and only write for i dont want to understand the javascript of tomorrows the lack of information is what grounds me. I…i ….i just cant fathom all my family being hot circuits and my love being a machine-made machine. The flowers are as unimportant as the birds and the bees. And now I'm trembling because the stability of this stream of information is stronger than this always kicking and screaming and fighting for this much too feminine soul of mine. Everything will be yes and no only. I'm about to explode. Exploding imploding rupturing an artificial artery somewhere in between the space of brain and what is mind. It's gridlocked and loaded to exist both “here” and on the blueprint embodied by and invented by pong and its creator in like the 1980s where my being was catapulted into a tiny body and told to live in this world already cut and dried for me. Equations floating in the air and with appendages of a stick figure now I roam…an entirely new battlefield, a new game of which like an a.i robot all I'm looking for is a default place to live and call my own. I miss those days of fleshy flesh and messy mess and being coddled by forces that are like an infant just swaddled in time and lulled to sleep synchronistically to the somber music and protection of ssi. I hate all these rules bound by quantum physics and astral realms where there's no error??? Just yes and no, x y and z. Spatially spiraling out of control while breaching information overload in a year far far away from where I'm from. I'm cybertronically frozen far from the point of origin I am  in a lunchbox. Erasers on a chalkboard.

By Ambie