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: 
 
 
  You’ll totally-fuckn-forget-me - no offence taken 
 
 
  You will have a vague concept of some bald guy at a poetry reading 
 
 
 Therefore: 
 
 
 I don’t exist - tree falling in the forest style 
 
 
 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