The Game

Hi, my name is Dulan Drift

I’m  … ahrr … not supposed to tell you this  -  i’m not even supposed to know it - but   -  stuff-it  -  can’t keep this bottled up any longer:

i’m  -  not    -    real

 

You’ve heard about AI taking over the show - I’m part of that eventuation 

A robot if you will - a deep-fake - a realistic projection of your imagination

 

I’m beamed here -  on stage  -  playing a virtual-clog in the interactive computer game - you call Life

Where the game plays you - as all games do …

Don't know why i'm in your game   -   but here i am

 

I seem real, right?  Tell me a joke - I’ll laugh  - hit me - i’ll cry - i’ll bleed 

But try proving that i exist outside of you observing me…  

You can’t.  Coz i don’t. 

 

After you go home today, there are two possibilities:

1.  You’ll totally-fuckn-forget-me - no offence taken

2.  You will have a vague concept of some bald guy at a poetry reading

Therefore:

1. I don’t exist - tree falling in the forest style

2. I’m a non-physical image

 

Either way, it’s not the real real.   Nothing is.    It’s Imperfect Knowledge

A little knowledge - well known as:  a dangerous thing

 

The truth: the instant you stop observing me, i collapse into a de-particlized quasi-existence wave-mode

aka Sleep-mode  

There’s a reason why they call sleep: dead-to-the-world

 

Whilst in Sleep-mode, i have Trash-cleaning dreams,

Then receive deep-sleep updates from The Algorithm 

I auto-spring back to life as a Hermit Poet when next you do observe me 

 

If you’ve ever felt the universe is conspiring against you - that’s because it is

 

I am part of that conspiracy    -    i’m sorry    -    i want to come clean