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.