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A Prayer;

Gold Foil Inflatable Dreamland 

Inflatable fantasy 

 

Inflatable Dreamland 

 

Deadlift Dictatorship 

 

Collective Fever Dream 

 

Stupidity Palace

 

Double Fantasy 

 

Creatine Dreams 

 

The Promised Land 

 

Gold Foil Inflatable Promised Land 

 

Give me

 

My Inflatable Promised Land Dreams

 

My Violent Cartoon Future 

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The feed serves relentless calls to action. Everything about me must be changed. I have been found wanting. And I do want. I want so badly to be these things, these upgrades sold to me in an infinite carousel of unsolicited advice. Of instruction. And I want so badly to not be the things that I am; surplus, inadequate, benign. I am nothing and through servitude I will become something. 

 

I can imagine my pale flesh, solid and tanned. I can imagine myself capable and unfeeling. Stubbled. Muscled. Stoic.

 

 

What cruel systems kept me where I was? These luminous personalities, filling their T-shirts, are not crushed by it in the way I have been. What do they know? How can I know it? 

I wish I was broader. Stronger.

New regime 

 

You should try a 

 

New regime 

 

Try

 

A new regime 

 

New regime 

 

Better healthcare 

 

Clean your teeth 

 

Careful out there 

 

Put on some weight 

 

Quiet despair 

 

Bicep curls 

 

Vanity fair 

 

British rail 

 

Attractive aupair 

 

Don’t retreat 

 

Ligament tear 

 

Social club 

 

Losing your hair 

 

 

Try a new regime 

 

Look after yourself 

Have some self respect 

 

Try a new regime 

 

Letting go

What did you expect 

 

Try a new regime 

 

Working weekends

 

Hold your own 

 

Crush emotions 

 

Telephone 

 

Tie your laces 

 

Dating apps 

 

Put through your paces

 

Lead the pack 

 

Alan Shearer 

 

Night bus home 

 

Never call her

 

In the zone 

 

Bankers bonus 

 

One night stand 

 

New homeowner

 

Don’t hold hands 

 

 

 

 

Be productive 

 

Look relaxed 

 

Alpha posture 

 

Don’t collapse 

 

No more grey hairs 

 

Best laid plans 

 

She never held me 

 

Don’t hold hands  

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You’ve been sold a lie. A lie to reduce you. But there’s another you, thriving in another place that the lie can’t reach. ​

You should get down the gym, bro

 © 2025 by Phil Barber. 

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