The World Is a Casino

The world is a casino, and you’re the machine.

Bright lights, no clocks, no windows,
just dopamine hits dressed up as choices.

swipe left, swipe right
scroll up, scroll down
tap tap tap

little pellets of validation
dropped into your open mouth.

Attention is the currency.
Fame is the jackpot.

Your brain is the slot reel
spinning spinning spinning
until you forget you didn’t choose any of this.

They lock onto your wounds like wolves:
“oh, you’re insecure? let’s monetize that.”
“oh, you’re lonely? we can turn that into engagement.”
“oh, you’re human? perfect. that’s exploitable.”

changing
distorting
slipping past your defenses

oh it does it so well

Your lizard brain is thirsty,
and the house keeps handing you salt.

You’re not addicted;
you’re just being handled.
Gently.
Consistently.
Scientifically.

Dopamine squeezed from the last surviving neuron
like juice from an old lemon.

What do they want?
Your stare.
Your scroll.
Your soul
in 15-second increments.

What do you get?
A momentary spark
in a room that keeps getting darker.

“one more round? you’re doing great.”