Attention Economy by Matted Grass

That holy jihad shit you read
and dirty magazines.
Bloodshed in your morning feed:
just eat it.
Ch-ching:
.1 cent to me
for every breath you breathe
listening as I turn a phrase.
You're paying.
Ch-ching.
Craving
release:
a moment where your mind is gone.
You float and you fall through the clouds,
back to Earth.
All alone you check your phone
and wonder where all your old friends have gone.

That holy jihad shit you read
and dirty magazines.
Consumers for the factory,
we're paying.
Next week:
overtime let's hope.
We'll take our breaks and smoke.
Every dollar's spoken for
and these scammers keep knocking at my phone.
About loans.
Work from home.
Til fuck this shit, I'm checking out.
I'm floating--
til I fall through the clouds of smoke and filth,
hollow.
Stumbling as I rise to meet the day
and work my way through the haze.
Sunlight and a breeze on my face.
Nothing more needed to replace
what I gave away.

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