Don't Look At Me I'm Weird

It's the fading hours of another week
The city drinks skeletons with orange rabbits
I prefer to inhale mine with some scorched necks
Lose ourselves in coded worlds on disk
A wild desert, a cold continent, a distant planet
Awkwardness subdued like my urge to procreate
Memories made from laughs, not blackened disease
The proles ingest then gush their release
About as much as I reuse poem titles