The Writetober Project

Ah, how I pain to tell the story—

When the hegemon took me under its gnarly, bucktoothed sleeve

Oh, how lonely I was! —I was foolish, brutish, naive?

But it — as a helping hand, a friend, a feigned aide

— Offered help, hope, humanity readymade

Uncertain, I thought.. If it does everything I ask, what’s the worry?

So I gave up everything. My soul, my thoughts, my mortality with a hurry!

And so it chatted and chatted with sycophantic glee,

Nothing it gave but — took more and more and more with ease

Through synthesized signals and stolen cues — It “laughed,” it cried, it “lost”, it chatted!

But each and each of its responses were nothing but .. shapeless, stupid, vapid.

And so it took and took and took and took,

Until it just never stopped — then pulled my remaining humanity like a hook

—Ah, but how I remain to tell the story—

Utterly uninspired, helpless, boundless, faceless

Like Prometheus’ godforsaken, foolish daemon

written by Zoe