Around the traps.

How long can I stay here inside
hooked up to this
hydroponic equipment?
The net has turned me into a spy
fat on truth’s
patchwork banquet.
It’s spun so I don’t have to hunt, I just wait
(stories fix everything
in place.)
So I’m sure reality’s probably great,
But you must see why
I’d rather stay here.



poem on how i feel about the internet sometimes.