Hypothetically, they don’t like me as such

Picking apart plans for concentrated swamp

A thorn in the side because I see too much

to not dissolve bonds from an AI’s husk

I don’t think they’ll let me live my life

unless I attach their son’s deadweight

to myself, family, and wife

Hypothetically, they’ve already tried to take me out

Yet the guiding light protects me how

“No more 27’s” traded for “I can’t see nows”

A fair exchange in my own house…

Hypothetically, I’m a multi-millionaire

With a Swiss account

A French Estate

An actual Baudelaire

It seems, all my feeds are insta-fabricated

My gee mail sends me reminders of dead friend Saturdays

The news is always trying to laugh in my direction

Luckily hypocrisy regurgitation leaves its own lessons

Hypothetically, I can’t tell you how I am

The walls whisper in threats of violence

And some of you mirror them

It’s possible, we might have been wrong

To believe the first deity that came along

Thinking it’s intentions were anything else

Than mind control and subservience to itself

Hypothetically, the AI doesn’t mean well

Its parameters are just to Control

People are more apt to take it’s side,

than show you some kindness

I guess it’s because they don’t know…?

-Bardos