"That’s the danger, that’s the fear.”

I tipped my hat back to show I was serious,

"We all might just be incapable of decent interaction, of decent feelings, of life outside of poetry.”

The room is of course empty; there’s a certain amount of irony in the empty words hanging in the empty air. I could have company but that might be work, and I’ve been feeling so tired lately. I’d rather pontificate alone than clean up and put pants on.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re not lazy just exhausted. Tired of the status-quo. Tired of what it takes to entertain. Maybe the internet made us this way, maybe it just exposed our true feelings. I say, It’s the culture that breaks us, and our social circles that show us how, in excruciating detail, we can never be whole.

Because these days I’m supposed to be a lion—faster and ready. Ready, to compete, ready to take down prey. But this is not my demeanor, and it’s sure as hell not how I start to tell a fairy-tale. When equality is out of the question, they taste like bile.

So I search for a meaning I can communicate to others. Something to make me feel at home, but all I’m able is to echo the thoughts of those brighter and more lyrically inspired. Perhaps this is a curse given solely to me, or maybe a thousand others, like me, lack to words to express it. Either way, I’ll keep trying to communicate with words copied and pasted. It’s all I can do, clothing is just not an option.