must’ve been Ai or perhaps AI…
why can’t i see the real?
why is animation so raw—
why does it leave me feeling-
and yet none of it is real?
i’m not deaf, braille is just how i hear-
can’t you tell?
the splatter on the wall—
the strokes i carved with the nails?
is blood bright enough?
are the brown in my eyes
all that remains
of a once bright mind?
i cling to the animation—
not because i’m dying,
i’m just losing shape.
like colorful distortion or animated convulsion-
colors mix so well the war is now lost to
compulsive, repulsive, too-kindly, violently revulsive pixels.
and perhaps that’s something
AI could never write about,
but maybe Ai could.