The year is 2057.
You're cleaning toilets
while artificial intelligence
writes poetry.

People compete in the weekly
MrBeast death race
to afford groceries.

Your grandpa
needs to charge his teeth,
but he doesn't know how to.
Elon Musk has started
building a death star,
for god knows what reason.

There are no longer
any acoustic guitars,
even the back of your head
is plugged in.

And Google just restricted
your childhood memories,
because they violated
the community guidelines.

You pay $5.99 every month
to jailbreak your brain,
just so you can remember
your mother's name.

The federal agent
tasked with monitoring your life
just committed suicide.

And a toddler
won the presidency
last week,
in a tiktok debate.

His first presidential order
is still being interpreted
by the Supreme Court.

Dadaism is back,
and it's political again.
Skibidi Ohio rizzler,
if you know what I mean?

The personalized
holographic ads
in the subway
merge the faces
of your closest friends.

But you can't tell,
because the would-be
whistleblower
was bribed with a house
in the Bahamas.

So, unknowingly,
you just find these ads
weirdly appealing.
And who knows,
maybe you do need
a new phone,
after all?

Everything is bits and bytes.
Speaking of which,
a feral dog bit you
on your way home.

Hell, you bit it back.
This is survival of the fittest,
evolution is back on the table.

Congratulations,
that's your dinner for tonight!
A top-tier midnight snack!
Rinse it down
with some motor oil
and Mountain Dew.

It doesn't matter
what you drink these days,
you're a cyborg anyway,
you just need
some kind of liquid
to cool the system.

Tough luck,
the bite wound
got you infected.
And with a medical emergency,
it’s time to go bankrupt!
Your expensive insurance
covers nothing.

As a sweet relief,
you finally meet your death.
Welcome!
Surely, this must be
the final bus stop?

But alas,
you hear a voice
in your head.
“Do you want to
watch TV commercials
to stay alive?”