Poetry

Chill Days, 8 (313.)

When the game freezes
for the second time in two days,
despite my powerful computer,
despite me playing by its rules,
I ask myself
“Is this a sign that I should put the game down?”
It’s a valid question,
and my recent depressive episode
that lasted a few hours
leads me to believe
I should probably put the game down,
at least for a little while,
but here I am:
water bottle draining slowly,
coffee mug close at hand,
with the game rebooting already.
Maybe one day
I’ll get over my shitty urges,
but today
is not that day.
The game
gives me that sweet hit
of serotonin.
I know I’m probably on the road
to destruction.

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