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When neon spreads

There was always more. More bottles, more parties, more waste. Funny thing is back then I thought that was freedom. Money like water, lights like fire, every night louder than the last. But freedom isn’t drinking champagne you don’t even like. Freedom isn’t losing yourself at a table full of cards and cocaine just because you can afford it. That’s not freedom. That’s just another cage, made of gold instead of iron.

I walk down the street and I see the same lie everywhere. People buying overpriced coffee like it’s holy water. Men in suits racing to a meeting that nobody will remember tomorrow. Everyone clapping for the same circus they claim to hate. From watching too much wealth rot, from seeing people who had everything still beg for more. I wanted something else. A crack in the system, a reminder that value doesn’t come from a bank vault or a brand logo. I don’t care about the name. I care about the laugh I get every time I see a fat banker sweating on the news because a painting “vanished” under his watch. I care about watching the cracks grow.

Capitalism taught me one thing, people will chain themselves if you polish the lock enough. I know chains can be broken. And when the neon spreads, maybe then, freedom will finally look like freedom.