_proxima_
for Kyra
it’s freezing in the flat but
we linger in the character customization screen
to decide on the femme fit
kitted in chainstore clothes
we climb the hill to the observatory
extend the max render distance
swivel the telescope / pierce the skybox
look @ the first star i ever tried to find in the nightsky
now divided into 2 pts of light
a binary system w a hidden third
the planet w the red trees from my dreams
where the sunflares force all the animals underground
into damp rented caverns
from where i’m standing now
it takes 4.37 years for the light to load
which means: systems lag
the burning central processor of self-discovery
finally realising the importance of performance
tho i’m still in the roots of the skill tree
the awkward 14 y/o blue eyeshadow stage
but w the help of year nines
i’m starting to understand character progression
going shopping for dresses
then blushing when the cashier assumes i’m the insta boyf
trying out different builds
maybe one day i’ll achieve mastery
wear that fucking tennis skirt outside
reclaim the accent i hid from bullies
learn how to branch w/o
all these fetch quests
into the exploitation centre of the cbd
i never knew a piece of polyester could
make me feel like myself
now i go raiding in the open world
w mixmatched armour
to find a $8 cucumber from new world
w ur help i think i can
come to terms w the fact this life is a permadeath timesink
1 star & 220,000 hrs played
i’m neckdeep in a low poly simulation
but happy finally to ignore the questionmarks
all over the map
content in knowing out there somewhere
there is a planet snuggled right up to its sun
but we’ll all kill ourselves before
we fly there
to dig up all its ore
& put the creatures into children’s books
where they are reduced to gendered metaphors
for all our pointless furless mammal emotions
at least there’s that
right?
rhys feeney (they/them) is a high school teacher in Te Whanganui-a-Tara. their debut chapbook, soyboy, was published as part of AUP New Poets 7 (2020). they play too many video games.
Poem note: This poem has its roots in a date at Space Place. We were basically the only people there and looked at Alpha Centauri through the telescope for ages, which was like a dream come true. The rest of the inspo comes from the queer icon that is The Witcher 3, of course.
You can follow rhys on Twitter @rhysfeeneybot.