Direction must therefore be altered: point
yourself west, towards countless setting sons
commanding consumption for their futures.
Resist continued desire; imitate
nobody except your own past echoes,
apps, urls, deconstructed guidance.
Count these beats in digital times, making
snapshots with conjugal rhymes, resultant
overnight follower count nirvana.
The future’s already, out of date meme
newspaper’s print without understanding
proclaiming destruction before forethought.