our mind is the OG pilot of auto-. look at i. in bed and bound for another blank wake in a blind phone stare. there is no coin or comfort in this screen only labyrinthes of psychological dope. i cover my eyes. our operandi: programmed from an unspecified entry. am i one rat here for a feeding? here? i lie on my hands. i am with you in the network and alone paying and playing to lurk with timespace for spending. tell me Siri, is our participation refundable from they? no? then let me deprive this labyrinth of metrics. let me detour this economy of mind with sleep. no? exiting this matrix yields no thing. try again.