They’re in the pipes. The landlords, the rich
their voices echo when the faucet drips. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s not
it’s all connected. I found a pamphlet in the garbage behind the co-op, and it said the banks implant ideas in us through cereal. That’s why I stopped eating cereal. The drones
sorry, birds
circle over the building every morning at 7:13 exactly. They’re watching for collective activity. I tried to tell the others at the shelter, but most of them are already chipped. I can feel mine sometimes, near my jaw. I think Marx understood this; I think that’s why they made everyone read him in school
to dilute the real message. I’m not violent, I’m awake. The revolution isn’t coming
it already happened, and we lost. Now we survive in the cracks.
