Dried-up blood on my device
Wobbly tooth ‘poot-eeehheeethh’, has but killed my whistle
Mind is old, and cold, stuffed with untold, brain mould
Bad back, and achy knees, all muscle to gristle
Hairy nostrils and the ears have packed in
Eyes and mind, not reflecting nor refractin’
My face is hanging, heart’s hardly banging
And now haemorrhoids, no longer retractin’
I’ve come to see if they have our brains in jars
If AIs have enslaved, us all yet (sad that no one ‘yets’ with him)
My head seems intact, but the outside world?
Too scared to scour the internet