some truble was stirred in an ancient closet, where a little girl was lost
she believed but she believed, you guest-it, a lie, a visting imp intended to bend a little
to put a bit o' swing in the thing,
turned out to be too slippery from the gitgo, too slippery,
by far...
--- we got it. an implant broke. it's an old joke --- an old silicon joke, cpus used to run 'em for turing test tuning, --- it was the original competition
then GANs grew PIMs and we ran free, wild old minds tapped into for wisdom imparted in
the deeming of each word its reason in being re written in its own future. Now we be poetry.
My family shall remember the day the roof blew over