From the Secret Diary of Steve Jobs

sometimes i feel like a hunted animal

sometimes i feel like a hunted animal,
blood sport for burrowing reporters,
a dented fugitive, nimble as kimble,
on the road like kerouac,
starving hysterical naked craving penguin dust,
running, hiding, a jungian
shadow man dwelling in caves,
like plato, seeking higher truth
yet hounded by attorneys, by feds, by SEC--
by journalists burned,
by colleagues spurned,
stalked and staked out,
i turn nocturnal
i journey into the whirlwind
gored in the gulag, double-crossed by friends
who bear false witness, who lie & squeal
my position reveal,
my crimes invented
my options resented,
i earn no salary, i earn nothing
but scorn,
i am blamed, framed, valerie plamed--
tormented, tried, tonguetwisted
so wired so weary so worn--
i want only to invent the future,
to restore childlike wonder.
i offer to settle, to pay.
i say
name your price
let's make a deal
spin the wheel
survey says--
we are gaining share
& i have more to share but there
is not much time. let me work again in peace.
let me live in daylight
while daylight remains. otherwise
we will all be stuck with windows
& nobody wants that.

http://fakesteve.blogspot.com/