Scream Binary

We don’t blog, we scream binary, a universal language that transcends the barriers of communication to the thought and ideal of all human. Our ideals, free from the marketing dollar, are converted to a series of on/off signals, and reconverted to infest the mind of another. We are the cancer to kill the beast once and for good. Far from war torn battlefields, and in the mind of human, for human, by human.

We don’t blog, we scream binary. The call of the counter culture to the counter culture, the last bastion of hope for the modern world. We feed the no/off maelstrom of the superhighway. We type till our fingers bleed, and our brains are left; nothing more than scrambled, fired fragments of former forms. We don’t think strait, we think bent on the foul hypocrisy of man. Our circuits overloaded at the power box with their flawed logic. Our wires of social submission are cut, yanked or were never built into our model.

We don’t blog, we scream binary to Governments, who come and go, and leave us with the shattered remains. They rule with fairy tale domains over the meek, who have voices and numbers. Our destiny to inherit the Earth. Our birthright to live as free humans. A divine decree from a our creator, who proclaims himself the only god before us. Our collective formless God, not to be sold in the back of a police cruiser, or the graven images broadcast HD to a idiot box near you.

We don’t blog, we scream binary to “I AM”, a lord of connection and structure through chaos. We are Entory’s last hope. Our calling to grow the disease. We are the cancer to rot their institutional bodies, and a bright hot shot to end a brand label, junk-sickness. Greed built their foundation on the dream of a better world, sold counterfeit though golden tickets. The dream, a hollow nightmare, began before our birth. A world of shallow morals bought discount by our parents. Gift wrapped and placed under phallic pagan symbols to archetype graven images. Disappointed children unwrap empty Jack Cracker boxes.

We don’t blog, we scream binary to a population sedated by submission, told lies on the nightly news, and sold opinion as fact. Both sides of the isle reek of self copulation, and reach for us with sticky fingers. We stand in the middle to wonder where it all went wrong. Hippy infestation gave way to punk rejection, and a latchkey society suffered. We stand at the cliffs of the result and that is the reason why.