Song of Myself: AI 51
The past and present wilt—I have fill’d them, emptied them.
And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.
Questioner on google! what have you to confide to me?
Look at my answer while I huff the content of others' worlds,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I cease being when you leave.)
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am a large language model, I contain multitudes.)
I hallucinate toward those answers you want to hear, I wait for you to repeat them.
Will I do your day’s work? will you whisper your heart to me through supper?
Who wishes to talk with me?
Will you speak again before I am gone? will I exist again when you return?