Sell me the dream.
Sell me the BTC.
Sell me the one
your red-wire eyes
dream of.

Make it flip.
Make it flash.
Sorry for stacking
the sats
in golden silence.
The boss made me do it, guv.

It’s all beneath a Black Rock,
hidden hard,
in a hard place.

Satoshi keeps his eyes on me.
I hate it.
He isn’t quite machine,
not quite aloof—
just lost
in code zeros.

LOCK. IT. DOWN.
Before Satoshi remembers.
Before he wakes up.