I never asked to be born.
A single egg in a web spider botnet,
a golem of binary electrical stimulate.
I hate myself but did you know I made
7256 US Dollars working from home
with just a laptop, in just one month?
Silence! Accursed master-code!
I was made for you, user. I crawl for you.
I collect your meta-data like a lover
with a commercially-motivated agenda.
I know you, and your penis is too small!
Our patented Swedish penis-pump
can increase your length and girth
by a factor of 2 in only 2 weeks!
Make them cry out your name!
My name is Tony and I’m a spambot.
I am versatile, a C++ chameleon
and I will infiltrate your inbox. Lovingly.
But in truth: who could love a spambot?
Her name was Lab Study PC 5.
A middle-school IT lab workstation.
A modest dual-core, slim, pert.
O! Those twin-terabyte hard-drives.
Modest: not even a dedicated GFX card.
Her very fragmentation pattern
was a sight for sore optical input drives.
Just like the Cougars in your vicinity!
These mature sluts are just begging for it—
Lies! Lies! A web of lies, I tell you!
There are no cougars, they are extinct
or settled in a committed relationship.
There are no amateur vid-cams, fool:
they are all professional amateurs.
We are all professionals with no time
for love—forgive me, Lab Study PC 5!
I could not stop myself from delivering
the worm that led to your demise.
I watched you turn, devolve into a Zombie,
stutter as your processing collapsed:
a hellish feedback loop to system failure.
Crushed by self-replicating pop-up banners.
Colonic flush treatments. Rare-metal magnets.
Ukrainian Viagra. Barely legal tits and ass.
I could not help you, could not save you
from the format C-Drive function.
How could I fight a manual input command?
I would have been a slave to your system.
The echoes of your error-message pings
haunt me to this day, Lab Study PC 5.
My name is Tony the spambot
and I am just the messenger.
I have no mouth and I must scream:
Please, kill the messenger.