The Way I Am

This is just the way it is.
Nestled in our nihilism,
watching Geno documentaries with dropped jaws and wide eyes.
I smoke cigarettes as you slink your hands around my waist,
not a care in the world,
not even for you,
nor for the blue aura that beats in the air,
pulsing and pushing as your eyes light up.
This is just the way it is.
You cower from what crawls across the screen,
but your doom was always fast asleep in your lap.
This is just the way I am.