Pixel Zombies: Pixel Zombies (10)

The siren song of the Digital Age, it drones, it drones

Its liquid lingerie entices the rat in me, in me

Rats rise from graves to pixilated fantasies!

Rise from graves to pixilated fantasies!

Is this what I've come to expect?

A front row seat in the Laser Cabaret?

She waits for me atop my desk

And strips to reveal tits that house toxic inks.

In here, accomplishments and human errors,

Feuds and heartaches last a lifetime

Men can shield their selves in porno attire

And be as lonely as a nation-less army.

In here, I'm always dressed in my Sunday best

My self-made mask never comes off

A feeble, delicate wire down my chest?

Lips concealing high-voltage fangs

Kiss the back of my neck…

Because we're all just looking for love

Rats rise from graves to pixilated fantasies!

Rise from graves to pixilated fantasies!

The siren song of the Digital Age, it drones, it drones

Its liquid lingerie entices the rat in me, in me

Should I expect anything less?

A luminous stripper recites an owner's manual

Entangles me in a seasick film

And licks my cheeks with photographs.

She's a lusting hound, with a headpiece of outlets

Her eyes are cellophane cigarettes

Her lips are two inflated freeways,

Spectacles made of summer love interests.

My distaste for her grows with every click and image

But her dance arouses me beyond mere temptation

Our dance of exceeding lust turns into intercourse,

As abruptly as we begin, she grins and bears electrical fangs.

Slice! Slice in through my spine

And soak up all you can for your shamed couture!

White paralysis slips in through my carapace

And leaves it's corpse on the bedroom floor!

Our cemetery site is drizzled with dial tones

We feed on flesh colored green and gold

Although we can't take the vitals from a digital neck

Or scratch its pixilated face to save our own.