YouTube Is Out to Get Me

YouTube wants to kill me, so does my neighbor, the garbage truck's driver,
porn, the Microsoft corporation,
I just got two blue screens of death in the last week, you motherfuckers
The seasons, particularly winter and its bullshit: cold, snow, ice, chapped lips, the furnace
My employer, the government,
Too much and too little
Up and down
My bed is too cozy
The whole internet is too interesting
I have ideas to write but everything's been written
Dead writers are out to kill me
I want to write, but YouTube is easier
I want to write, but instant reward is just
I want to write, instead I choose instant gratification
so convenient, so warm
and yet, so painful at the end of the day