The used person's void

 It all leads back to you the used person.
You are the quintessential void of a human being.
The empty delicacy of systems built for attention.
So why do I feel such atrocious envy of you?

My meager attempts to stay authentic win me no accolades.
I witness you the used person wearing your stretchy smile.
In your new improved model of the year gas guzzler.
Grand ostentatious void of a human being.

Tiny price tags hanging off eye lashes and the deal is made.
Trophy wife, trophy everything, personal advertising.
So question me delicately...
Why do i still feel envy?

You broadcast that utopian slogan "free yourself".
Lean on into the fat void, content on the outside only.
Like an airhead gymnast cooking dusty padded floors,
with her brazen elegant world class acrobatics.

Only to self destruct into alcoholism.
However the void is God's greatest gift.
Anything can come out of or go into you.
Me, there's broken complexity, useless structure.

No rave hype appeal, not commercial enough.
Me, I'm growing predictable like proliferating lake algae.
I am the void filler, all spores and all spurs into your wall,
into your mind, the quintessential epistemologist freak swarm.

Are you curious? Maybe I can fill your void,
Can i bring my retinue of hosts and parasites?
Can they paint the inner membraine in fervent colors ?
As I continue to poke and prod the depths of your void.