Mind Lasers [Rated M for Mature]

I’m lazered up in bed

watching AI porn at 2 AM.

So comfortably placated

I feel guilty and distressed

the way my mind dives

towards the feral itch 

where devious joy loves 

like a full moon. 

Twisting everything I love on itself,

nuking the brain 

with a chemical rush of special 

loner syndrome that tantalizes 

and goads with promises of a perfect world…

If only for the latest iPhone or 

video game or Super Bowl spread…

I want it all. 

It is disturbing and splendid,

and nobody is there

to tell me I’m living 

like time is an infinite fabrication.

My abundant nature whittled by the proxy 

natures of monolithic mind-objects—

slabs reconstituting—

user interfacing—

menageries segregating

the burgeoning ape-mind 

into the echo chambers of self-induced hypnosis 

and powerlessness. 

Oh God!

Oh, Great Powers beyond!

Act upon me so I may act in Your Will!

Help me disregard my proxies of You! 

Level my killer instincts

less I kill myself and

recycle phantom remains

of my spectral past,

of a body that got used to loving the emptiness,

loving the requiem in my head,

the embryonic euphoria of doubtlessly 

turning on self,

cocooning my endorphins

over a stove

until charred

as I feed 

on paradigm-shifting dysmorphia

by the cubic centimeter.