Needless Things: Deathly Delusional Degens

They gamble their souls on fluorescent dice, Chasing illusions at terrible price, Neon confessions on skull-lit screens, Selling their futures for counterfeit dreams.

Degens of midnight with hollowed eyes, Drunk on delusion, immune to goodbyes, They laugh with the reapers, they dance with the damned, Building empires of ash with skeleton hands.

Cryptic addictions devour their breath, They trade in decay, they barter with death, Each promise a phantom, each fortune a lie, Their halos are rust, their wings never fly.

Yet still they descend through the luminous haze, Lost in the labyrinth of glitch-burning days, Deathly delusional, wild and profane, They crown themselves kings of a graveyard domain. NNN