Do you not know
why?
Do you have the gall to contend it is ohhh, sooo, cut-and-dessss
cried?
Would you prefer a screed?
Would my cut-throat self-disparage quell the throat-cut witless savage you so knowitall systematically
deal
me?
.
Yes, I waste my time, it's mine to kill.
And yes, obsession's tragic; a sacrifice of will;
a less-sense, repetitious, lonely Whip-poor-will
trill.
Thrill? Till, more like it.
.
Don't you see that I'm
alone?
That when you tut tut with a finger and suggest that I malinger
as you peer down disapproving from your segregating throne,
you... you...
you... pone!
W i l l I a t o n e?
Expiate your Code of Right-eousness?
.
Not on your... tele-
gonic life!
.
Strife?
Strewth!
One day you will wake and see I'm
gone
and all the tortuous conversations and the devalued 'misbehaviors'
of our frequent interfaces will be drawn.
Not
as concluding curtains
but as unwieldy certains. For certain it will be that I
will
go.
I will floooowww. I will groooow.
I defy the caustic scorching of your ineffectual scold.
I shall buy myself a dongle, I will cryptograph my games, I will cyphertext my passwords and you,
I will
permanently
.
unfriend.
http://images.gizmag.com/hero/gaming-addiction-1.jpg
YOU ARE READING
There will be time
PoetryWARNING: 'There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions...
