Today I will save the world, but who should I pick?
Should I be a demi-god who can control the wind?
A famous dragon slayer with a fatal roundhouse kick?
Or a soldier taking out an army with a pistol and a grin?
I am an invincible warrior and no one can hurt me here,
Not even my family downstairs who never talks to me. Play.

I’m in my room, beside a few white dusty plastic fans.
I am safe in this swamp, with my video games and console.
I will eat my meat lover’s pizza with my stubby hands
With occasional moments where I dream of potential,
But when the pizza is over, I return to a world where I belong,
That I can control, where I can win, and never be rejected. Play.

I take a few breaks and open up my private tabs
To naked women of wide variety. Again, I take my pick.
Blonde, brunette, MILF, slapped, tied, or grabbed,
And I stroke lonely until my blanket is wet with sick.
Once I finish, I breathe harsh and stare at the ceiling,
Frozen, disgusted, and no longer attracted to anything. Play.

Before I go to sleep, sometimes I philosophize.
I have these questions, but I usually sleep them off, like:
If ghosts watch us, do they see us masturbate?
I always feel like the walls are staring so I was just wondering.
Do they give us privacy like civil specters and wait,
Or do we just select when our loved ones are hovering? Sleep.

I’m in my room, consuming, cyber, and confused.
I don’t remember the last time I made something
Besides blunts, cum, minimum wage, bad grades, a noose.
Sometimes I know I’m just twiddling my thumbs in front of a screen,
That the songs about the money make me fake feel rich too.
That the porn gets weirder, life gets shorter, and I eat shit stew.
That these unrealistic characters I play make me feel strong,
That I’m screaming at plastic that did nothing wrong.
That I’m hurting and escaping and yearning and breaking,
That underneath this hole, I may actually have some flair.
Sometimes I’d like to leave my room and go see what’s out there.
Would you like to go with me? Send.