Now, I Only Have to Think.

I understand how social media,
auction sites and search engines,
interweave connections,
passing information amongst themselves,
without any direct,
sapien involvement.

I notice my own passing thoughts,
birthed in my brain,
appear soon afterwards as adverts on the computer screen.

I don’t understand how this is happens.

Clever algorithmic deduction?
because I am a file within a simulation.
A plaything of a programmer,
who resides in a different dimensional universe.

What happens …
if the programmer gets bored with me?
Or decides to eat out this evening,
closing the lid of the laptop.
Is that it,
game over?

Does the programmer sleep when I sleep?
Does a night shift programmer replace the day shift,
getting busy,
with programming all the mad dreams I have,
every night?

If this is so,
is my ‘day’ programmer boring and unadventurous,
just grinding out an existence,
working to live,
only to pay the rent,
bills and monthly maintenance of an overdaft?

my life isn’t very interesting and if I’m just a file in a simulation,
then my programmer is responsible for my mundane life
(not me).

If I was my programmer,
I’d make it that I won a record money win on a lottery.
Then sit back,
observe how it played out.

I guarantee it would make good viewing.

Maybe it’s because I am a small file,
in a simulation in which my programmer isn’t solely my programmer.
the programmer is having fun and dedicating more time with other files,
by-and-large ignoring me,
as a virtual non-entity,
within a much bigger picture.

I don’t know what to do to get the programmer’s attention.
I was never good at getting other’s attention.
Even people who’ve known me well,
have walked straight past me,
without noticing me.
past me.
No joke.
Friends, family and lovers alike.
What chance do I have with a programmer from a different dimensional universe?

God damn!

Is There Anybody Out There?

There’s no one out there,
I’ve determined.
When help is needed,
Or a valid complaint is made,
Deserving of an answer.
I’m basically talking to the stars.

Although simply put,
It supports the idea,
Of a programmer,
Responsible for my life simulation.

Because, He/She/They don’t know the answers.
They maybe studying, experimenting,
Perhaps having some recreational fun.
Or, I am a pet.

A novelty.
But God no,
Not anymore…

Anyway, they don’t know how to respond,
And nor do they want to,
When I complain or ask for help.
They’re not experts in that particular field.

Possibly not experts in any particular field.
If I keep pushing,
I suspect,
They’ll press ‘DELETE’.

“Do you really want to exit and end the programme?
All saves will be lost.
This action cannot be reversed.”

If I’ve been an interesting enough character,
They’ll bring me back,
Into their next simulation.
“More successful, next time!”
I ask.

But, I’m just talking to the stars.