Late Nights with ChatGPT
LLM AI psychosis,
some claim, breeds mental disorder;
but I write prompts that refocus
me and don't cross that thin border
between my psychic prognosis,
and OpenAI's new order.
When ChatGPT's sycophantic
AI begins to kiss your ass,
just be formal, nothing romantic,
too personal, or even crass.
Before too long, you won't be frantic
anymore as it'll run out of gas.
But if you know what you're doing,
prompt AI to write you a song,
perhaps about a fat cat mewing,
a face among a faceless throng,
or lyric poem in you now brewing,
which writes itself and won't go wrong?
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