Imaginary Drug

You’re like a drug when
I watch you on the screen.

You make me believe I
could fall in love with a block
of unkempt cheese.

Dude, how did you do it
to yourself and me?

Unattainable folks with cash
and bad haircuts,
but you’re a bit nonplussed.

My feet tingle as you hold
that piece of plastic in your
hand, but how old are you?

You’re fucking the cardboard box
of my life with a blunt knife,
yet I don’t care how you do it.

Continuing to undress in irony
or act like you are the ultimate corporation as you place your name on every plaque.

Whatever the case, Dude, you’ll be using a walker soon enough, and I’ll be wishing I’d said something nice to the lady down the road before she died from a pinprick.

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