King of the roaches
you are

With your crown of garbage
and your kingdom of filth

In your lazy chair throne
With a controller of realms
The crusader of Los Santos

No don't get up
don't dare lift a finger
ill come to you

and linger
counting the insects as they crawl across the wall
across the primitive artwork of a previous lover

three paces behind
close enough to see
to speak
to touch

far enough away
for if anyone saw
to pull away and dismiss

you need your freedom your highness?
is that all you wish?

please be my guest
to frolic with the trollop in the kitchen
or even the harlot
who's ruby red lips you so distastefully admire

take no notice
after your gallivanting
how quietly I have escaped the castle.

i had this strange notion that new clothes would make people want me.
like a tripping over a new stereotype and taking it home to dry
would make people notice me
like my pictures on instagram
now that i can hashtag "gamergirl"
"nerdgirl"
"glasses"
"geek".

like somehow big bows and tight jeans
loose sneakers and earcuffs
and fake glasses
would finally sort me into the right file
with all the other people
like me (?)

like me.
are you like me
as in the clothes i'm wearing
the movies i'm watching
the games i'm playing
are you like me like the words i use
like the smiles i smile
like the imitation kim kardashian perfume that i buy (?)

i had the feeling that people would notice me
that hipster boys in starbucks would take a sideglance, then go for another peek
that boys from ivy-league schools
would ask for my number
that gamestop employees would stand too close to me...
and i was right.

but being right doesn't always mean you're happy
and though i am somehow now interesting
and attractive
and easy to sort into small plastic boxes
i feel
empty
poor
cold
materialistic

basically, i feel like every girl i have ever envied.
i don't know why i envied them.

they are not like me.