It is an excess of people.
Of places.
And things.
A buildup of waste.
An increase in emissions across the board.
A strain on the ecosystem.
A blight on a natural order.
A tipping of scales into unnatural territories.
An ever-growing database of every manmade moment.
A piling on of bites of life.
A pillow of white noise between the car crashes.
Spread like wildfire across suburbs of Skynet.
A lens for every viewfinder behind every paywall imaginable.
The perma-sensation of round the clock leaks from a tight ship.
Under mountains of digital gold waste.
And the stitch-up of piles of forced fashion.
Between the immaterial of a factory-made dream.
A rationing of one’s time for another.
Always converting what is into what has been.
Through exhaustive mileage of convenience.
And then they wait for holiday sales, the Glut.
Art generated by AI powered by Midjourney Sep ‘22. Image rights belong to me.
Created using prompt: thousands of people gather at an industrial garbage yard under piles of rubbish Dark sky:: --ar 3:2 --test
Comments