Human Pixels

Human Pixels

In the mosaic of my dreams,
my autonomy comes unstuck,
I’m in a nebulous jail cell,
the Matrix, a construct.

My jailers have black eyes,
faces of blur,
they operate on me nightly,
till morning disturbs.

For what do they seek?
Who knows what they are at !?
In seeking those answers
I’d better don the tin-foil hat.

But there is something cold in me,
that they will find hard to reach,
a cirrus patterned madness,
a nimbus shaped freak.

Who are these beings
are we their creation?
computer generated Human Pixels,
A Homo sapiens simulation?

And how would you feel,
would your poor embattled ego implode?
If all that you were, and you are,
is a line of someone else's code.

So be careful my wardens,
put all things back where you find them,
leave my sanity intact,
or this loon retakes the asylum.

If I am their plan,
the product of their equation,
I suggest there is a glitch in their cipher,
or they are wilfully baleful.

What meaning has a brain in a vat,
void of volition, a human automaton,
an aliens vision?

So, as I wake up, please strengthen the illusion,
that I am still the master of my fate,
quell the Butterfly Dream delusion...