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Technology is matter built to mind our fusions and confessions of relaxation, tie up the man who believe not what you believe, and praises those like you, and pay homage to the one who makes you believe
Name the shame and project it in reason, seasoning the wounds with lies and killing the truth so much that question of dreams are reality of answers, in noise of poverty,  earring of gold and riches, touches of slavery and vision of desires.
I sit, in a sited position thought consuming the mind, silence at its dept, and emotion at brinks of uncertainty, call me what you  but never call me a reader of this encrypted life, deciphered by the same person who is clueless too. 
 Some say we create our own fate, some say we born to with a purpose, some say we are in search of a destination that has no map, 
Some people are followers like those who live inside the barriers of lawful codes,  and some are prisoners  to it, 
But some are what they are
So i ask again in aged time of seconds gone by, 
Are you a creator or computer?

Lebron Spirits

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