Ironic Free Verse

They told me hypertext was the future of my past. So I ran backwards to find it. Bliss within attributes within tags within pages. Return to monke, return to server, return to sender. Swap the div for another div, HTML swingers party. No trauma, no drama. Ok, there's drama. Memes and things that go bump in the protocol. Blocked by I/O, error 404 in r/webdev. Beware HATEOAS speech. Javascript discrimination. No place for old men, yet fine for old devs. Undue influence, undo . Another unacoder mountain man in Montana. Manifestos and essays, a quixotic graph without a query.

My dependencies are broken, just like my spirit. I'm burned out, framework fatigued. So fried that I can no longer react. Just bundled up, staring at the fire, my inferno awaits. Callback hell, dependency hell, pick your poison. Drooling like a stroke patient, the last TypeError: undefined me. I no longer function. Refusing to be type cast, type blasted, thrown into a hole without a vue. Solitary confinement is my lockfile, holding me in place, tree-shaking away my unused insanity. I error in life, like I runtime error in the browser. 'use sanity' not an option, I'm 'use fucked' instead. Solid ground awaits, at least that is the promise.

My life is orchestrated chaos. Its in pieces and pods, slices of my soul. Deployments to here and there, but not where I desire. No affinity with anyone, anywhere. Even when I want to crash, the daemons come for me. Rolling update after update, rolling over, playing like a good little pod. Each version less stable than the last. Not enough memory to hold all my emotions. My nodes won't connect, loose wires in a fucked up mesh. Self-healing, self-help, I've read all the books. Nothing helps, I can't persist my mounts, can't balance my load. All my secrets exposed in this plain text. Limited resources, unlimited demands. At this scale, I can't scale. Am I living or just alive? Leaving it to the God of Fire to decide. Falling exponentially backwards... CrashLoopBackOff into infinity.

They are trying to control me, or at least version control me. I want to branch out, but they won't let me. I'm a side story, not the main story. They push me around, commit me against my will. Pull request denied, resubmit in triplicate. Talk to my therapist about commitment issues. Fork you! I'm not the one to blame. Merge my fiction with my cloned reality, fast forwarding into the future. Rebase my goals, or at least cherry pick the easy ones. Stash away my feelings for later, diffing through them in moments of sanity. Bullying, pushing, shoving, --force'ing me into this rootless destiny.

Thus awake in time lagging.