breath in my lungs

take my art

and make it a [royalty-free] picture;

take my writing

and make it "your own";

take my ideas

and put them in the machine

the machine that has no art

no writings

no ideas,

just spit-up "facts"

from nonexistent reliable sources;

the machine that's

made of steel

and plowed fields;

stealing away the livelihood from

the earth's very bones;

the machine that wants your money

your heart

your mind

your ideas

your world

to devour;

but the machine

has no heart;

it can't take my sadness;

it can't take my love;

it can't take my energy, my lows, my highs;

it can't take my friendships, my family, my world;

it cannot take

the very breath in my lungs-

ai should go fall in a hole and die