Connected

It’s a fight against insincere communication. We have 43 things I want to do, you want to do, we should do, and collectively we can cheapen our goals and hopes, to-gether. I got the facebook so,

I.know.where.the.fuck.ing.party.is.dude.
And you should have seen your face.
Myspace the temple of the connected. 500+ friends, a weak foundation to be somebody. Quality is the connected.
And the Queens of Quality, the web-cam girls who seduce keyboards, are what we are really aspiring to be. Now I know the definition of a Myspace whore.

Quality is the connected. The electronic social butterfly has taken flight. I’ve lavish adornments of comments, pictures, interests, activities. Social gatherings. Poke you and hope you poke me back.
Expression is deadly, do you feel the guilt in going off on a tirade about a subject and it breaking those invisible social rules, to keep it simple, to keep it safe. Ipod safe. Can we only talk about what happened last weekend? The web, a reflection of our real lives, and you better know who you’re talking to, or you’re going to feel real lonely. So connected, but I’ve never felt so lonely. And this machine runs off insincerity. We're connected and interchangeable and the parts grind so hard without the oil of our vanities.
LoL.
Lmao.
And I’d rather feel alone than lonely.
But just because we’re holding hands doesn’t mean we’re sharing minds.