Charles Bukowski's Poems About the Technological Singularity

Spoiler alert
they dont make it
the techs die in flame-
molten bandwidth, dildo accident, airbnb what-
ever...
crawl under the google bus,
or book a lyft from dahmer,
hurling their peacoat bodies
through photo-shifting glass,
reject vc,
reject buyouts,
reject, reject

spoilers
if you read the book
please no previews
im episodes behind
these tech guys are dirt
theyre filmy bubbles waiting to pop
and spill out like bad yolk
they dont make it.

something has got to be done
but time is a flat circle,
an influencer once retweeted
and all these pukes,
these fucks,
these tech goggle motherfuckers
with handlebars and suspenders
and vc from god
to build an app,
like steel
like sonnets
like bombs to drop on desert huts
we have an app now,
god, or something, bless the techs
money can buy
a lot
but not
immortality
or human empathy obvs