The last desperate hiding place of an escapist
at the edge of technology
right under the big entry port
and with a view of information society's main traffic line
where the intensity is biggest
and pile-ups are nothing but utopia
A netsurfer of the worst kind
Exist more when You are not
Are most when You don't exist
On Your never-ending hunt for the meaningless pieces of information
like a traveller in Your own inner universe
You don't see what life is all about
but get as a payment for Your soul
the biggest pseudo experience of all
And while You enter one well after another
and get further and further away from the essence
on a toxic cocktail of speed and caffeine
searching for the impossible:
A superficial happiness
that only steals Your attention when You have time for it
You will reach the end of Your searching
at the end of Your electrodes
and only find the rest of a world that has turned it's back on You
Isolated to death
You reach the bottom of the deepest well
