Why they say we’re digital?
This digital expanse pre-configured
Ready, awake to play
Why they say these things?
Do they enjoy playing the game
Like an evening moan?
Do they capitalize on it all
When the coin ain’t nothing but code?
Where are’d pop-up hints?
The tool bar?
The how to’s?
The trash room?
You know, the real ones?
When sweat and tears coiled your papers once
Made nasty-ass lunch once
Slapped you over the head, once?
Living inside a mansion’s lot
That someone bled making such
Being called names and such
Killed themselves in their sorrows much?
I find it difficult to call your dying brother some code in some matrixal plot
Or when mom rushed you to school before your weekly’s lunch
Or your friend’s kid driving cars and such
Another first woman making it to Mars as much
The dancer that broke his schlong and such
The losers who popped guns during a groceries hunt
As the moon endures comets and America and such
When dad left you for a hot wing with a side of brown rice and much
When your sister invades your spaces and mazes much
During your teacher’s discriminate tyrade and such
As the homeless piss on your two-legged dogs and such
When the girl calls you wrong in the bus for what and such
When an old wolf nabs your partner’s brunch and stuff
When the sun tilts by quite a lot it becomes too much and such
Before you’ve had your half-baked dinner delivery and such
When you were nothing but a toddler, an annoying runt and such
As you were a baby crying for a drink, and another and some otter and such
In the womb forming your atoms and energies as much
As the cosmos formed the nature to have you, bear you and such
And your messed up grandparents and their little slaves and such
And the indigenous’ search and their cold demise and such
Before doctor whatever made it a worthy meme — an internet pub and such
For what cause, and such?
A broken heart, as much?
A tattered brain, as much?
Like boiling flame, and such?
And volcanos and such, sewer water as much
acid rain and such
And you still believe we’re all ones and zeros and much?
When the stars outshine your living room and such
A room full of actors pretending to act and such
Believing we’re Nintendo and pong and the such
Where everyone dies and die way too much and such
When life’s shortened and cut by a swollen drum and such
Playing cards with your brothers and cousins and sisters and the such
Hurrying before the bus zooms past a greenlight and such
When the coffee spilled halfway on your way to work and such
When the ideas for your canvas come drier than sand as much
And you rack your mind as to why and why some more and such
And you wonder if these excuses must be a simulated factual one and such
Because what else could explain the randomness of this life and such?
For what else could a simulation care what you did as much?