This kind of drug I’m addicted to,
I’m consuming my digital junk
in the corner of my bed
help myself get caged
comparing myself to another: lies.

Tell them I lived well,
contradiction to the real
the empty spaces of my universe
pleaded other to stay.

Here I am
wasting three, five, nine hours
dusk, day and night
scrolling through a windows
of nice place.


I am an escapee
from the prison of life.