“You’re obsessed,” They tell me.

So what?

You’re addicted to a cell phone; I‘m addicted to video games.

There’s nothing like it and quite honestly,

I prefer it that way.

The anticipation for that new release in October is like that agonizingly

slow drop of a sharp tortilla chip slicing down your throat.

A feeling of pure euphoria comes over me

galloping home from GameStop with the brand spankin’ new case.

Nearly foaming at the mouth when my PS3 eats the sparkling CD

and I stare at the new loading screen

while fidgeting like Gollum about to grasp the Ring.

Its’ something about the thrill of doing what is

impossible in reality.

Jumping off buildings into a stack of hay,

breathing fire upon unsuspecting guards,

unloading a clip of bullets into a mob of the grotesque undead.

I. Can’t. Get. Enough.

When gaming season comes,

ghostly white my skin turns.

 Bloodshot my eyes become.

Ultimate procrastination of everything in my life.

I know I am obsessed

I know it’s unhealthy

I know you think it's strange

But you know what?

I could give a shit.