I wrote my thoughts on empty pages,
A future whispered through the ages.
In silence, I built the world I see,
A place where I can finally breathe.

I kept the echoes of my doubts,
But now they’re voices, not just shouts.
Each step I take, the light grows near,
A future built from all my fear.

I felt the weight of shattered dreams,
But now I see them as glowing beams.
What I was is lost in time,
Now I’m crossing every line.

I’m futuristic, born from the stars,
Every scar is a map of who we are.
I’ll light the sky, I’ll burn the ground,
In a world where my voice is found.

They said I wouldn’t make it far,
But now I’m shining like a shooting star.
Futuristic, watch me rise,
I’ll paint my future in the skies.

I’ve walked through fire, I’ve felt the cold,
But now I wear my story bold.
With every tear and every fight,
I’m carving out my own new light.

I’ve built my wings from shattered glass,
Each piece stronger than the past.
The sky’s not the limit, it’s my view,
And now I’m soaring, breaking through.

I’ve been lost, lost in the dark,
But now I’m finding, finding my spark.
I’ve been waiting, waiting for this day,
And now I’m stepping, stepping away.

I’m futuristic, born from the stars,
Every scar is a sign of who we are.
I’ll light the sky, I’ll break the ground,
In a world where my voice is found.

They said I wouldn’t make it far,
But now I’m shining like a rising star.
Futuristic, watch me rise,
I’ll paint my future in the skies.

I’ve touched the stars, I’ve walked through time,
Now every beat is yours and mine.
The future’s calling, it’s screaming loud,
I’m standing tall, I’m standing proud.

This is my time, this is my crown,
Futuristic, I won’t back down.

(F)uturistic parts of time,

(O)nly what's for me, will only be mine,

(R)ecognizing what's for me, is for me,

(E)ventually it will come most definitely,

(V)isualing it, deep within my mind,

(E)xpecting, hopefully, to arrive on time,

(R)eceiving my Blessings, to me will be fine


B.R.
Date: 4/25/2025

I wake beneath a sky of glass,
Where morning’s tones in pulses pass.
The walls project a forest view,
Though outside lies a city new.

My mirror greets with voice so sweet,
It scans my health from head to feet.
“Your vitals shine,” it says with grace,
While brushing teeth in zero space.

A suit wraps round with warming thread,
It shifts to black or blue or red.
Its fabric learns from mood and light—
A second skin, both soft and bright.

I step inside my transit pod,
No wheels, no roads—just paths it trod.
Magnetic lanes and silent speed,
It reads my thoughts, then takes the lead.

At work, the walls are minds, not stone,
Each desk responds to me alone.
My co-bots build with laser art,
And code appears as I just start.

We craft new worlds in quantum flow,
While time bends gently, soft and slow.
A thought can birth a flight or game,
And dreams are now a form of flame.

A break? I dine on clone-baked bread,
With fruits from labs where genes are bred.
The meal adapts to what I crave,
And cleans itself—no plate to save.

By evening, homes in towers rise,
But mine folds out beneath the skies.
Its AI paints the twilight hue,
With stars it learned I once called true.

My daughter calls from ocean’s deep,
Her submarine a school and keep.
We speak through lights and neural thread,
As sea-glass drifts above her head.

At last I rest on levit-beds,
With lullabies from bots and meds.
And dreams arrive in chosen streams,
From curated, delightful dreams.

Yet still within this world so wide,
A human spark must yet decide:
That though tech bends both time and sea,
It’s love and thought that make us be.


Susanta Pattnayak

Pigment caked under my nails.
Tasting the metallic remnants of a lost childhood.
The reality is hidden in visions and supposed dreams.
Fed to me, was the comforting hugs of mother and soothing lies.
Grew up in the age of paid horror.

A new appendage is cheaper than keeping the original.
Marked by the price of my body.
Each fall, subtracting, each workout, adding.
Beauty is a curse nowadays.
Each beautiful child is raised and sold for millions.
Each ugly child prays to be one of the lucky to receive the new parts.

Greedy families hope for attractive offspring,
to disassemble for a new future.
A pair of brilliant green eyes can change your luck.
Having blue eyes guarantees you to be blind.
Leaving you with shades to cover the hollow left behind.

Adults will tell you sports lead to a promising future.
But they don’t tell you that it’ll lead you to losing your body.
Self-harm is a death sentence. A cut drops your value.
It forces you into the career of taking.       Taking the beauty from the beautiful.
Cutting a limb or two won’t hurt them. Taking an eye is just life.
Tell yourself they should know better. They should’ve expected it.
Expect the unexpected when you are beautiful. Expect a life of pain.
Expect misery and lose those emotions when you are ugly. You won’t need that conscience.

Forget about the forgotten already. Use that arm to grab a new leg.
Use your head to get a better one.
Use your emptiness to end others. They won’t need that life.
And don’t forget, to use your misery.
The more miserable you are, the better off the world is when you end it.

-recovered from the papers of codename ‘Wolf Spider’, spin doctor for the Purist resistance-

his Machinery is glitCHing: o so human
imperfect beings produce imperfect creations
yes, I believe: a jealous god creates warFull people
metal is flesh is plastic is flesh is metal –
hybrid creatures, and yet one species only

to come so far and yet still be at the basic
his steel claws are tipped with choking poison
recovered from the corpse of Socrates himself
war is fitting: slaughter of life
for the sake of stealing Death

his Eyes unfaithful to himself, he is not the only observer
the naïf does not read the Terms and Conditions
of his own (not his own) body
throughout my life I have seen the necrosis
caused by blind faith in humanity’s humanity

am I stuck in the old ways? perhaps that is true,
but in the Old Days of the Old Ways you could tell with a look
what was born and what was spawned from a factory
only the brain remains, they have not yet found
a way to binarise my soul