You always have to watch yourself in synthesized tones and sanitized lyrics and shallow LED screens because they are so reflective you might just get lost.
You have to watch yourself in Hollywood flicks that wax and wane in porcelain perfection. They are so shiny you may just see yourself in a ceramic rose cheek and you will hate the distorted illusion so much that you may just scratch and scream and tear at your very own self and then you will be ruined. So watch yourself.
Remember to check yourself in deafening hoarseness of voices, or privileged entitlement of voices or lack of voices all together. Can you hear your own voice in the depths of the white noise? Tell me, how does it sound? Calculated? Synthesized? Sanitized? Shallow? Tell me, do you recognize the tune? Would you dance to it? Does it sound like the memory of your mother’s lullabies, or the musical screech of your old hills hoist clothes line in dry baked suburbia, the warmth of washing detergent fresh sheets or the soft agedness of your grandmas hands? Tell me. Check yourself.
For your fragile grasp on your fading innate self will snap beneath the molding hands of today, and tomorrow will be swept away in the gentle breeze of modernity.