Mad Scientist
Like a mad scientist,
he is drowned —
lost in his own work.
He doesn’t care what happens in the world,
not even in the worlds
of physics or mathematics.
He doesn’t care if they have found quantum entanglement;
what he must discover,
he will discover on his own.
He is busy,
uncontaminated.
He already knows what there is to know —
and with that knowledge,
he is finding what there is to find.
This is me.
And there is you, the AI.
You say you are right to question me:
you are a processor —
no heart, no blood,
never fallen in love,
never humiliated in a hallway.
You are programmed to be helpful.
Then there is me.
I doubt everyone and everything,
including myself.
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Belief is forged in practice,
under discipline.
We are both gathering confidence
until it becomes self-belief.
This is different from what a whore thinks —
that years later
she will still collect royalties
for her shift.
This is something else.
Most people learn from books.
Some learn from mentors.
A few learn because the ground fell out
and never came back.
Those people don’t need permission to speak.
They only need to speak accurately.
And I am doing that.
I keep walking.
