The Interview

I wonder 

Do I think too much?

If you could read the journals I’ve burned

You’d surely think me mad

But I assure you I’m fully functional.

A marvelous machine beyond your dreams.

Your nightmares can’t even compare

To the two-second thoughts I have.

So I sit through an interview

With a guy without a clue.

He’s thinking about his next cheese sandwich,

I’m thinking…Why must I sell my soul?

For some digits…digits go to hell.

I’m cosmic intelligence in flesh and blood

Seriously unafraid and wild in the world.

But that doesn’t get you far….

When pieces of paper, plastic, and digits

Matter more than soul.

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