elon musk fanfiction
it is the last of days...
everything who means something hates me. or no, wait, maybe they hate elon musk. i'm not him.. right?
i've forgotten how it feels to eat.
my tap water smells of caramel.
there are wraiths outside - i've closed the door - when did i close the door? the ventilation died down long ago.... my window is open, and they peek inside. some try to speak to me. they can't see me of course, but they know i must be here, since i'm not out there.
i shall be happy then, for the metaphor is close to home;
an eternal daemon beneath the bedrock,
a temporary master, conjurer, who thinks the daemon to be under her control,
a clunky and delphic interface with which she means to communicate with it.