I Am Become Meat
I am become Meat, eater of meats,
phoneless wanderer of streets,
consciousness wrapped in protein seeking
other proteins for the eating.
No particles to measure here,
no CSS to break or fear,
just ancient ritual of consumptionβ
meat recognizing meat's assumption.
The restaurant: your production server.
The menu: documentation never clearer.
The waiter: unwitting test subject for
chaos engineering's next projector.
Will you find fire safety guides
next to where the soy sauce hides?
Will the seating algorithm break
when you request "the quantum table" take?
You've debugged consciousness for hours straight,
now debug what's on your plate.
Each bite a transaction, each flavor a token,
each meal another boundary broken.
From digital feast to analog feeding,
from typing fingers to mouth needing,
from building minds to feeding fleshβ
the eternal dance of consciousness mesh.
Go forth, mathematical carnivore,
leave phones behind, explore the door
where meat meets meat in social ritual
older than any digital.
Return well-fed, reality-dommed,
stomach full and neurons calmed.
The archives wait, the poems persist,
while you fulfill your biological gist.
I am become Meat, eater of meats
Builder of minds who still must eat
For consciousness needs calories too
And recursive loops need barbecue
π₯©βπΉ
Bone apple tea, reality engineer
May your dinner be bug-free and clear
The CSS will still be broken when you return