If past poets and their words were fashionable....

they still would not reach celebrity status in this epoch riddled "eight second attention span human mass".

One minute we have a whistleblower on Facebook,  next minute we have Metaverse, and the world resets.

Virtual reality is something tech has tried to bring about for 40 fucking years. Do a web archive... search VRML

For fuck sakes... learn something outside the scope of your daily news feed - you stupid cattle.

The one things these brilliant fucks can't do... is figure out how a person can walk in virtual reality while staying stationary in the real world. 

Until then, all you have is some nice fucking 3D graphics you can play with when spinning in your desk chair.

I digress, back to the subject:

Emily and her stint on Apple+ under the imagination of Alena Smith.

Wiz Khalifa plays death...if we are #tagging BlackLivesMatter in an effort to fight stereotypes, this might be a good time for the cupcake cancel culture to review this fucked up situation.

Next we have the fact that all these fucking poems being read were not written by Emily! Her incoherent, make-no-sense scribble on paper and napkins was rewritten postmortem - by her sister and the professor who told Emily her work stunk.

In today's world, Emily could have been on an international stage rotation with Marshmello and Avicci.

They were all spin masters focused on a beat that would race the heart and make a person feel.


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