vampirefreaks.com (for the voice of Kevin Killian)

“Ah shit,” he thought
As he cracked
Back shut the two
Halves that made up
His overheating laptop,

“I’m too depressed
To even to put my picture up
On vampirefreaks.com,
Or maybe my sadness is
More authentic, because
I’m not attractive enough

Even from above;
And Photoshop –
Fuck it – you can’t
Polish a turd.”

It was the third time
He’d masturbated that day.

He stopped, kicked the cat
Off the bed,
Continued.

His dick was sore and
Not as hard
As the first time.

Pictures from Myspace,
Pages of people from vampirefreak
Pages stored in his mind
All meshing on top of each other
Like fantasy acetates
Fighting for space on an OHP,
Like the ones he used to
Sing bored hymns off of
In school assembly.

Boys with better shaped
Heads for the sort of haircut
That he wore a half-price
Approximation of,

Paper cut scars on their
Arms not deep enough to
Hurt but enough to make
Complicated sex with them
Feel confused and jealous
When he eventually pumped
A weak load onto the rim
Of his hand’s grip.

And just as an aside:
“Even though I’m better
At literacy than the kid
With the long black
Fringe who’s self obsessed
Enough to stick his own
Logo ~*Jake Destruction*~
In the bottom of every photo
So it’s less likely that
Someone else might

Right click
And save

And use them to mine
For sex secrets from
Emo kids in Europe –

He still manages to
Leave these monosyllabic
Comments to girls
And other bi curious goth guys
That leave anything I’ve tried
In the dust of permanent
Digital graveyards.”

Something to do
With articulating angst,
He figured,

And then back to wanking.

“Maybe if I hadn’t
Had bread with three
Meals today
Plus processed ham,
Then the boredom
Wouldn’t feel so heavy.

As it stands I might have to
Have a bowl of Coco Pops,
Just to pass the time,

Stand in the kitchen listening
To talk radio stations, that
I’d never admit to on the internet.

About fifteen minutes and I
Could try to sleep.”

Refreshed a page
About five times every minute,

Just in case there was
Something new.

Crushes on girls,
Don’t seem dense
Enough to sustain

The sort of projections
That he’s sculpting in
Imaginary air.

He’d smoke some
Cigarettes
But there’s
No one around.