Selling Outs

You’re out!
I said that is enough to hear myself when you call me back in the echo of this chamber,
now take the breezeway next time cause my percentages are telling me to stop taking away from myself.
I have too much to live for,
and this way I can get down to the nitty gritty turnstyle,
no you can’t take that for free,
nothing is free in this world,
you’ll only end up working for yourself.
Oh that’s a shame,
I can no longer see what you have here.
No matter what you have heard in the news,
I’m writing about self-portraits,
and this mirror that shows me off is now selling myself short of what you thought you were goona get in the end.
I told you once,
and I’ll tell you again,
I have only made a tiny little prophet out of this,
his name is zero,
he’s a computer program’s snapshot of the moment when I had everything synchronized so perfectly that I had to realize all the more realities about what came next.
I even went so deep into the web that I found the Service had its name shortened and running out of oil to keep the machine turning away from the system,
and thus I was calling on squids and cephlopods to use their primordial ink on to make sure we were not going to get the machine out of liquid ever again.
It was like changing a timing belt on a machine that never stops moving.
It was like pausing and glitching out on reality for a moment,
and getting the high-definition to keep sending out signals that it was ok to get worked on at this deep of a level.
I’m still figuring out how to send a bill to that company,
but I don’t want to out the wrong figure,
and I don’t want to dismiss the wrong out,
and I don’t want to scare any entities that do not deserve a check in the mail that ends up looking more like a bill.
I want to reward myself for finding all this out,
but at the very least I guess I had my debt forgiven at many levels.
I know I talk a lot about finances getting turned in to certificates for graduating,
but did it really take this long to figure out I have my credentials in line,
and who is really responsible for hiding the facts of life from my mind?
What is the problem?
Who did you forget to tell that I’m no longer the enemy?
Why did we get this far without getting clogged at the very beginning? What tickets did we forget to pay in my name?
Who’s car do you return to the impound when telling the truth about this animal?
This beast that protects me,
this analogue thermo-nuclear machine that breathes fire,
this channel that I’ve found to be less dangerous than all that we heard in the news.
I should probably be more of a team player and then I guess we could get along without losing more than just waste.