The build-up to a remote no-win death walk 

is exquisitely symphonic  

You don’t know what I’m talking about 

do you? Okay let’s say there is a kingdom, 

only high-tech, not a castle. The courtiers 

are gamers and the peasants are game

Each peasant has a point value and gamers 

want points, points make gamers kings 

and queens. You get it? The more powerful 

the peasant the more valuable their elimination

but you can’t touch them, it must be traceless 

Now imagine you’re a peasant 

worth a million points. Congratulations. 

You’re going to become a super soldier 

or die. You are biologically, psychologically, 

geographically and psychically predictable, 

you are programmable, you are deceivable

you are susceptible. You have voices 

in your head now don’t you? You are being

punished for loving the King, you are being 

punished for being naive, you are being 

brutally ceaselessly pummelled 

for thinking for a second you could be Queen.

Close your eyes don’t scream or 

the other peasants will lock you up. The gamers

own the institutions of the peasants, 

the gamers own everything but you. 

Don’t squirm they’re dismantling your 

higher functions now there is a molecule here 

monitoring your thoughts, you’re being watched

There are so many of them you must just let 

it happen. You must go with the undertow.

There will indeed be broken bones.

It takes three years to build your No-Win

are you ready? It’s like your birthday but 

the opposite. Everyone is cheering 

and you can’t remember eating, you can’t

remember sleeping, you look demonic

the other peasants are at your door 

with pitchforks and a warrant for something 

you don’t remember doing. You have no choice, 

they got you but there is a portal through 

your death to just another day but better