Silver World and Ghostly Scars

on living through internet cults
23/06/2019. total words: 676

and i turn off the computer and look towards this world, this burning world, and i ask myself if i'm glad that we stayed long enough to grow up. the times that pass, the simpler times of that golden plane of the past, how the world of the now burns with a reality of more than ones and zeroes that i've never known before
and where was i when this was happening, when this reality started to burn, where was i before i woke up in a reality that has never wanted me
tap tap tap the keyboard clicks as i type and what world do we live in where these taps are keys to a wilderness we never considered real but don't we have the scars to prove it? they don't have to really be there, just ghosts on your skin, on your mind, and stars that never made it to your eyes
what life do we live when i do not have the scars to prove where i've been and the questions i've asked, the choices i’ve forced myself to make?
just because you only see the door doesn't mean there's nothing on the other side. just because a phone has a screen doesn't mean it has no display at all. and gods, did we live to grow up at all? or did we just continue on, teenagers still, running through social media instead of grass and the scars in our eyes in our minds and not on our legs-
fuck, we were children, and just because you didn't see the blood doesn't mean we weren't still fighting against the rules you made to make a profit or a cult. and i wake up from this technological dream of zeroes and ones and i look into a reality i do not love from what it did to my only way home.
and i see the city i must learn to love turned to rubble with the dancing memory of a golden halcyon still lit within my eyes and i know i've stepped long past the boundary of innocence and i will never be able to prove it
this world has turned to rubble when my back was turned and yet only the satellites above know the blood on my hands you can't say i don't know. you can't say i don't taste the agony just because you never saw me do it.
maybe you drove down to your friend's house and took the bottle of blades out of their mouth but is it so different to open up discord and send an 'are you all right?' message? we've all skipped studying for exams to tell a friend that we're here, and what would we have done if we'd turned away? is this test really worth the humanity of standing aside? of letting the road have its way?
i’ve held the knife that could lead to a corpse i’ll never see on the screen. i have asked a thousand questions you never heard me answer, maybe i can’t fucking pronounce half of my vocabulary but i’ve used those words, i know where this leads and maybe i don’t know the roads of my hometown but i know what words over a screen can lead to death and a ghost and an abandoned account. there’s no witnesses, and the tree still falls in the forest i’m told, and the internet is still a graveyard and i have a better idea than you of corpses. better yet, when you have no way of knowing there ever was a corpse at all.
i have lived and i have loved and you never considered it real and only the satellites above know my glory. these ghosts of scars still wander across the horizons of my chest
and i turn off my computer and i wake to a world of rubble. a world of quiet, a world about to end. and i ask myself in words spoken in air and never numbers: does this silver world know it loves me?