Outlier

We live
in the outlier timeline.
Events here
play out
as never intended,
but no hand
intervenes
because we are so amusing.

59/365

A version of this poem first appeared on Bluesky. Whispered into the acoustic sensors of the sleeping dreaming android, it prompted the electric sheep to generate one more tomorrow…

The AI rendered this poem as a rather tall young man, sitting by himself in a hunched over position. Probably best if he doesn't try to stand too fast and bump his head on the ceiling.