I.T.,

Ideologue,

To you our alter ego,

We sacrifice our souls.

Baal,

Of the modern era,

To you all things are beholden,

Then servant,

Now master,

Bowing low in supplication,

We are putty in your hands.

Seven headed hydra,

Your resource appetite is enormous,

Knowing no bounds,

Barely satisfied

By the dollars,

The explosion of dollars,

Poured into your thirsty gap.

Venus Flytrap,

Your scent entices,

Your jaws snap shut.

You suck our vitality,

Eschew our energy,

Spitting out,

Our dry, skeletal remains.

Quickly forgotten,

We blow away on the winds of change,

While you seek,

Your next victim.

Praying Mantis,

Upon us you prey,

Grabbed!!

Our heads serrated by your pincers,

You feast upon our brains,

Injecting numbing belief,

That YOU,

I.T.,

Are ALL that counts.

Prince of Modern Darkness,

You command attention,

We look upon you,

Falling like blind souls

At your technological feet.

Stunned by your intensity

We let all things

Other than YOU

Slip from peripheral vision.

Plunging,

All considerations but I.T.,

Into an age of eternal darkness.

I.T.,

You are a drug,

Seared into our psyche.

You are an aphrodisiac,

A demigod,

Exciting our desire,

Driving us to worship at your alter.

Nothing else matters.

Pied Piper,

You have lead your rats to the brink.

Stand smilingly aside,

Witness from your screens,

As we sink,

Deeper, ever deeper,

Into a hopeless abyss,

Of eternal servitude,

From

Which we,

Will NEVER emerge.