Post-Pandemic Zillennial Debris
ALL THIS DEATH SURROUNDING ME AND I’M SAFELY TUCKED IN BURIED ALIVE IN COLORFUL LAYERS OF POLYPROPYLENE ALL EMBALMED IN A PATHETIC COCKTAIL OF DESIGNER DRUGS MESSENGER-RIBONUCLEIC ACID AND A DASH OF SPUTUM AND OTHER BODILY SECRETIONS I’M PERFORMATIVELY FIGHTING FOR MY LAST BREATH WHILST I REMEMBER MY LAST YAHOO MESSENGER AVATAR WAS THAT OF A BEAKED VENETIAN PLAGUE MASK AND I SCROLL TO THE LAST TIKTOK OF THIS MILLENNIUM WHICH DEPICTS A HOT ALT ENBY FLIRTATIOUSLY MURMURING “THE KILLER IS ESCAPING, HELP ME” AND I CAN’T STOP CARVING HARRY STYLES FANFICTION ON THE INSIDE OF MY COFFIN AND THE PERSON NEXT TO ME IS HAVING A MANIC EPISODE WHILST POPPING MY PIMPLES WITH THEIR TEETH SO I REGRET CHOOSING THIS OUTFIT TO DIE IN BECAUSE THERE’S SURELY NO HYPEBEASTS IN THE 5TH DIMENSON I MEAN THERE ISN’T EVEN BUSINESS CLASS GOING THAT DIRECTION I THINK TO MYSELF AS THIS SOIL REEKS OF FILET-O-FISH I SWEAR I’M TRYING TO GLAMORIZE AND ROMANTICIZE EVEN THE LITTLEST ASPECT OF THIS PREDICAMENT BUT I’M A CANCER SUN AQUARIUS RISING SO I LIKE MY EGGS POACHED AND THROWN IN THE TRASH BECAUSE I BECAME LACTOSE INTOLERANT AFTER MY EXBOYFRIEND WOULD LITERALLY SCRAPE HIS UNBRUSHED TEETH WITH HIS NAILS SAYING IT WAS CHEESE.