I don't want to be marketed to in the vacuum of an algorithm.
I want to discover what I like (and don't like) on my own.
I'd rather dead gowns than sweatshop crowns.
Meet me at the GoodWill and let's make out
between the men's pants and the musty books,
where the hispanic ladies change price tags
and the ties make me want to wash my hands.
I will puke your media before I ever eat your electric sheep.
I'd rather have Central Park pretzels than fresh landfill lamb chops.
I don't want your wardrobe or what you think I think I want.
Make sure to find me right before I die,
I'll be behind the trust truant from the school of thought
that we both pseudo-subscribed to back when we were dumb,
but no longer young enough to blame our problems on that fact.
I don't want a past and I only want the future that I make happen.
I want the present to teach me how to be more present.
I'd rather throw my phone in the East River forever than live in its code.