Last time, I wrote about feeling mournful over the past. This week, am feeling more positive, although everyone says the future is grim. I skim-read a piece about AI and grief-bots. This is sort of about all of that.

To the deep, fake self

To recall the old days
through the haze
of now.

Pulling close, coming away.
I haven’t missed me.

Who would have thought
you and I could ever be so free?

To see the day as it is,
in all its blue.
Moment after moment after moment.
Light on the eye, sound on the ear.

A world that’s phony
is only possible
in a world that still knows
what’s real.

To know it is to break it.
If you own it, you can fake it.
If it owns you, it will take you.
The world is not a machine
and you are not its thing.

I’m not who I was going to be.

Resistance lives under the skin,
beside love, next to sin.