Insta Glamming

Hordes of numbskulls ride the ether waving on its waves. Hi kites twirling upon a digital wind. Each empty head has but one thought, a desire to be seen. Hordes watch, flock to the hand-held stage leer, laugh, get bored with the show switch to game mode to fight dragons with dirty fingernails. What a grand way to die this is! Shuffle dancing or ass's twirking, cute or crass while the kettle of life boils away and the body pours until out of gas. They must, they simply must be in every bodies eye, Must be noticed and so they preform, risk all for a dare. The audience does not care they are pictures in a camera, dancing, fighting, or humping, busy being the exhibition of the day minds far away chattering to themselves. Money they want for their play or the paltry currency of a less than minor celebrity, a hope that like any bubble or party balloon will pop all too soon. Then what is left? Only this, the shriveled skin, the idiotic grin skid marks on a wasteland of time where they decline.