Te[am For]tris Effect
Last night, 3:30 in the morning, someone on my front porch
I alt-tab, frozen, but Steam won't close; I'm in hot water. "Go to sleep!"
I go to sleep, unsleeping; I wake up, still dreaming
I unfurl my umbrella as an angel her wings; outside it is raining
Raindrops pitter-patter echo
The fire from heavy's minigun
A car drives by, but I'm no py-pro
"Is this… Mon Dieu!"
It's hard to get good marks when you're STUPIDBored
(A blue marksman takes aim)
"Press center of target and release. To select another display, press the space bar."
(His rifle illuminates the red soldier's face with blue, then red)
The other classes pass quick, and soon it is English
We are reading the Cask of Amontillado; spoiler ahead: Fortunato is dead,
Probably sicked as a dog from the air.
Probably.
The air in there must've been damp, as dampens my closet
Where the silence, my deafening thoughts quiet:
Do we respawn after we die,
Wearing new hats and wielding new weapons?
Or is it an endless void, a masked man (?) Burning Through Space,
an incandescent yellow apathy, blue light burning through time?
Too fictional to die in those walls,
Too fictional to break forth.
Too afraid of being corner-stabbed,
if we walked out the doorway
A corporeal tunnel for a life compartmentalized
If you die in the game, you respawn in real life