What Are the Cargo Pockets for Lanza Extra Mags - Neckbeard Deathcamp

A temple built to your self-importance

Air thick with rage blood and body odor

Walls adorned in baroque portraits ov every woman who turned you down

A selfish monument to infantile emotion

Long corridors inside your own mind

Glut entitlement steeped in failure

Greasy incubator for a monster

Go see a fucking therapist

You’ve never done anything kind for one of these women yet expect them to take

a knee before you

What are they meant to be impressed by?

Insufferable gatekeeping?

Mysoginy dressed as chivalry?

An armful of NS black metal CDs?

Go see a fucking therapist

You pace the halls ov your own misery for without them as a safe space you

would have to face reality

Righteous indignation at the blameless

And every night while tucked into bed, as creeping guilt finds your mind

You open the door in the dungeon and meet the man that you are not

He’s you but happy and well adjusted

And he laughs as he says what are the cargo pockets for Lanza?

Extra mags?