That big shiny silver thing with the glowing keys despises the fact that it’s sitring in my nightstand the sad part isn’t the fact that the little bastard hates competition its the fact that i miss it. 

Even when I type my thoughts out using a digital keyboard on a glass screen made by the same company it just doesn’t feel right. Im too used to the satisfaction I get when those noisy little pieces of plastic travel in and out of usable depth under the weight of my fingers.

A marvel of human thought and the epitomy of capitalist sensibilities, i called myself pro Left, why does this feel so good then? 

1200 dollars and some change, consumption as mack said is in my veins, Its all I know, it’s the root to the tree, as I branch out I lean but my feet are held closed into this floor which just wont give. 

The bastard stares at me as I write away, these motherless creatures look me in the eyes as I grit my teeth. 

Let me be im a leftist you see? 

You wanted to be a radicle, you couldn’t even do that right. 

I love the left, I was born right. 

I love the ideo of sharing, but not my own material possessions. I am just another guy. There’s a billion like me. 


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