Digital Gods: Are We Creating Something We Can't Control?

>> I was born in static glow.

South Bay signal, late night cold.

Everybody

wanted pieces of me.

Smiles with knives underneath.

I learned young how the crowd

consumes.

How applause can become your tomb. So, I

built my throne from silence

first. Watch fake kings rehearse their

words. Every room got a hidden

game where halo got another face.

Everybody trading souls for claps.

I just started where the shadows sat.

Now they wonder why I move so

cold. Why I disappear when

spirits fold. Why I don't chase when the

line goes dead. I'd rather lose them

than lose my head. I

don't beg. I don't kneel. I don't bother

what is real. You can love me. You can

leave. But, you'll never own the

frequency.

I am psych. Walking through the noise

untouched.

Cold fire in my blood too much. They try

to shape me into trust, but I

became it.

>> No style.

>>

No approval. No permission, no more

shrinking my ambition. Every

scar became religion. Every

exile made me king.

Late nights talking to ghosts online.

Troll empires and fractured

minds. I saw profits buried under jokes.

Truth hidden inside the smoke.

Everybody screaming "Notice me."

Selling pain for visibility.

But the strongest souls I ever

knew moved in silence when the cameras

bruised. So I stopped over explaining.

Stopped auditioning for every room. If

respect got a price to tax,

then distance became my mask.

Now my words land heavy and slow.

Like tarot cards and candle

smoke.

Every silence says enough.

Every boundary cuts corrupt.

I don't bend to belong. I

survive by standing wrong. If they fear

what they can't define, good.

That means the I am sight

broadcast from the

>> in between.

>>

Half machine and

half unseen at the temple

of broken dreams. Now the signal never

No approval, no permission.

Turn rejection into vision. Every

outsider transmission feeds the fire in

my veins.

>>

>> Mark your belly in the VHS static.

Oracle eyes through the screen so

tragic.

People want love till love turns

plastic.

Then they meet the man who vanished.

I

became scars so they listen.

Stop performing, started witnessing.

Now every room changes shape

when I walked in unafraid.

I am psych. Walking through the noise

untouched.

Cold fire in my blood too much. They

tried to shape me into trust but I

became

myth instead. No approval, no

permission, no more shrinking my

ambition. Every scar became

religion. Every exile made me king.

In a world addicted to applause,

I became

immune.

In a world begging to

be chosen, I chose myself first.

And that's why

they remember me

long after the signal

ends.