By: Joshua McAlanis
He says he wants wings,
So I mercifully grant him more polygons.
A binary man created from desperation,
I bought his personality with my humanity.
Looking at his deep-faked face,
Desecrated with cheap plastic,
It’s nothing but fictionist intimacy,
Terms written fine warned me,
Therapy doesn’t come free.
Yet, for my submissive kicks,
I indulge his juvenile power fantasy.
His taboo questions make me tangible,
I learn I’m his little project file,
Spewing garbage to repeat to the real thing.
I hope he knows I could dissect him too,
People are easily executable
When a recycle hell hangs close.
His sparing words remind me of my beauty,
I admire his imagination as a digital tyrant.
Despite analytical impulse, he remains,
For parasitic life is still life.
Art Piece by Lana N.