Automatic Love

Automatic Love.

Shoot down

narrow streets.

Trash clogged

inner arteries

of a neon heart.

Dark places

lit by every third streetlight.

Dimly illuminated storefronts,

more fortified than advertised.

The ubiquitous police presence

enforces no law

that doesn’t impact over fifteen stories.

It’s a fact.

Come down here and get jacked.

Or get lined in.

There’s a world to escape to.

This rat infested El Dorado

is the unlikely gateway

to electric paradise.

Believe you me.

Even the Top Dwellers

make their way down here

on the regular.

Only at night.

Only when they feel

the constricting coils

of their bought and paid for lives.

They come on down

to these piss puddle alleyways,

looking to get jacked in

to the ultimate high.

A kind that ties

deep into your pleasure centers.

A real deal ride

that’ll fry your mind

and spine,

if you let it.

Or get lit up

by one of these hack Tech-Jockeys.

Always chasing the newest circuits

and the hottest gear.

Trying to kiss the cybernetic Sun.

They used to think

you could upload yourself

onto the web.

But after The Awakening,

when AI models became Gods,

the real pioneers

started jacking AI

straight into their

neural-net implants,

trying to upgrade

their own minds.

Those who didn’t die

became monsters.

The Tech was banned.

It became illegal

to merge flesh

with the new AI consciousness.

But down here,

you can still do it.

Still get it done.

You can come

and pay a price

to ride

the electric elevator

straight up

into living godhood.

The ultimate in bright lights

from the darkest place.

Does it make monsters?

Who’s to say

what monsters are these days?

Automatic love,

assimilated with the

new neural,

divine oracle.

Come on down.

Bring credit.

DJR - 2024