Berkly lies naked on his damp couch
chip dust settles into his chest hair
and buried somewhere between his legs
lies his half dead prick.
He laughs at every corruption
and those that think they all have it figured out
like he does.
The cross carriers
the ones with the invisible friend
the fools that are holding everything back.
Berkly shifts his weight unto his back, staring at the ceiling.
And allows himself to dream.
About the day.
The day certainly coming, where he, and those like him
will finally be running things.