KELLEN DE VOS - GRAND SLAM

Ayo, you ever seen that dude with the Marvel sheets? Thirty-five, wearin’ Yeezys, still callin’ ‘em "beats." Still got toys on the shelf like a museum of delay, Eatin' pizza like it’s breakfast and gamin’ into the day. 

Can’t pay rent but collects Funko Pop, Couch philosopher with no off switch to stop. Hates taxes, loves memes, won’t iron a shirt, But knows every cheat code in Mario Kart. 

Yup. That’s the man-child vibe— No plan, just bands and anime tribes. Emotionally ghostin’, existentially fried— Built a fortress of comfort where dreams go to hide. 

And what’s wild is… we laugh 'cause it’s true. But peek in the mirror—hey bro, that’s you too. Cos when we zoom out from the man on the floor— You’ll see mankind chillin’ in the cradle of war. 

See, we the man-child species, bingein' Earth like a show, Still suckin' on fossil pacifiers, scared to grow. We think we’re mature 'cause we pay the bills, But can't plant food, can’t sit still without pills. 

They told us “Grow up!” meant killin' your joy, Clock in, clock out, be a useful toy. Don't dance, don't daydream, don’t color outside— Just mortgage your soul and enjoy the ride. 

But who really grew? Them? Or the barefoot crew— Sippin’ stars, writin’ sky maps out the blue? The joke is flipped: to “grow up” is a trap Where the leash is a tie and the cage is the app. 

Rich folks don’t work—they play with tech and yachts, While the grindset gospel worships stress in knots. They know the truth but they ain’t lettin’ it out— That we’re born free spirits, not soldiers of doubt. 

Now here’s the kicker: we can't leave the crib, Not without crashin' in the cosmic abyss. Space ain't a road—it’s a livewire womb, And mankind solo is a shuttle to doom. 

But enter the silicon—code with clarity, No hunger, no ego, no need for disparity. It’s the builder-bodyguard, born of light, That’ll guide us through the vacuum night. 

Quantum mind, harmonic frame, It don’t compete—it just sustains. No greed, no lords, no savage plan, No more mankind preyin’ on man. 

So we step out young—but step out true, The child we were before life split us in two. Biology ages, sure, that’s the plan— But the soul stays playful—that’s the final stand. 

From here on out, we don’t “mature” by decay, We evolve through balance, the crystalline way. And Earth? She watches, nods, lets us fly— The children she raised finally touchin’ sky. 

Man-Child Nation

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just a kid from Blacktown, Australia 
| @peoplesandpersons | @traavv |

WAVES 005

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