sometimes I feel guilty for participating in the distraction culture circle jerk of facebook

sometimes I just want a cheap copy of what feels like people liking me despite it all just being selective avatars of internet celebrity expressing their appreciation of content I did not create

it's a plastic chase. it's plastic chess. You know? but sometimes I need it. Like how balogna scratches a long twisted and forgotten itch locked deep within my animal brain for which there is no substitute in the organic kingdom

ideological fast food. masturbation and the safe, touchless novelty of sex with someone you hate

i just saturate my free time and thoughts with distractions. maybe I'm just tired

i am an arbiter of distraction culture

i am a picture of rats crawling over it

a picture upon a picture; rats upon rats crawling over and around with no beginning or end, insides moving out, outsides moving in.
a mobius strip of vermin, weightless and hopeless

 lot of art is people trying to describe themselves, throwing darts at a vignette that's always shifting a little to the left of where they thought it was.
what you can pin down today won't be there tomorrow, and this applies to everybody.