TRENDY ERA OF POETRY

In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes. Andy Warhol Sometimes I think how would be like to be locked in a quadrangular room and interrogated by strange face individuals dressed in black in white walls and a blinding light spills causing me eye.
While swallowing marshmallows, a coherent thought, and not merely dispersed to express in words what levitated in my mind... When I set out to create a blog was never intended to become a success, to be famous, or much less get whatever free. It was just a way to expel all swallowed and sucked, and had to keep house for me. I tore the silence and threw myself headlong into a project that gained contours differentials too. Besides the obvious rhymes, language plasticized, and words that spewed shoot which rail, loose splinters ignoble, but I am free because I am not enslaved. I do so not out of obligation, but out of pure passion. Do not ask me to read to gather information , I will sip that somehow the inspiration as I do with all that surrounds me , when I feel like it is right . If you are reading this text, something you brought up here. The seduction of words, images, my skeleton arbitrary or curiosity acute. My style is that I do not think pamphleteer. Fashion and poetry exist, and make me breathe every day. They are startled the echoes of my ego, id and superego. Invade me to escape. Serve me for me to serve others. A scintillating fusion. But in the future, how will all this? The parades virtual beliefs in terabytes of Prada, the pixilated tank tops, shoes led ingrown. Just a conjecture of compulsive supremacy of the hallucinogenic evil eye. What matters is that everything is changing, language, key vehicle of communication, and therefore the people, and the world. Quick, is passed. Speed is impossible to slow down. The impact of a gif image in a few seconds may result more efficient than two minutes of an advertisement. Assumptions tossed the bloody frenzy in the field of information. All consume. Many even without processing. Corrupt themselves in their eagerness to wander. Or disclose what was already spent more imperfect. Attracted by the ephemeral, the futility of something that spits out quickly. Where will it all stop? A return to the early days , the skins , the tribal body adornments , to hieroglyphs or a dazzling passage to a sixth dimension above and virtual viral contaminate all the inhabitants of this paraphernalia egos above . I'm not psychic, but I feel happy, to live in this era, as uncertain as (un) connects!