First, Alfred Noyes takes the stage. The road was a ribbon of moonlight. The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.  Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear? — Now, an inspired mentee. A bubbling sense of panic, that pierced like needles through the skin. Too strained to…

Sometimes we make a mountain out of a mole hill. And other times, we make a mole hill out of a mountain. At that point, it’s one foot in front of the other. Incremental progress.

Not my plan. Not my agenda. Not my objective.

The subway pulled in, and through the doors, a man holding a guitar could be seen. Tonight’s transportation was accompanied by a serenade. As the music played, well wishes for the traveler’s evening were tossed like confetti. In the background, a shout could be heard. She was demanding her share of the airwaves. Two performers…

The message that should have been delivered was not the message that wanted to be heard. And under that unwelcome weight it bent. Bent to conform; another AI, another sycophant.