What a Prediction

In the year 2319, we can only imagine how and what life will be, Will there still be families, or just a pooled incensed, breeding sea, Of writhing, intoxicated humans, clocking in for their lunch hour, Trying to reproduce and gaining ten more points towards power! Will mealtimes be as we know them today, or just merely queuing? For a measly tablet which you must have daily, chewing thus renewing, Your stamina to surf the planets at a graceful, fiercely unimaginable Pace, you must be in Planet Venus by 8 docks, o’clock, fashionable! As you arrive darkness greets you, your spirit, your being generates light, Only on those you want to see or places that you long to be in spite, Of the fact that if you stay too long, you sky home will be auctioned, And your brain scrambled, and laid to rest, without been cautioned! No rules, no policies, no systems, no charge, no one to give any rating, Just chaos, and the thought of inhuman elimination, your clone is waiting, And inherits your looks, your character, your wired and messed up brain, And this clone will be cycled and recycled for the same to begin all over again!