HOW DO YOU DO?

Something inbetween everything and nothing

In-out, in-out, beats our daily breath. 

Imbibing oxides, ailments and the unclassified fissions that seep from this city’s rotten core.  Bitter, curdled and thoughtless we commute down prolapsed expressways wrapped in metallic asphyxiation or choked by chugging boxes avoiding nihilistic knobheads; it's your choice.  While bile leaks from walls forming ever flowing pools of arbitrary stuff and relative nonsense obscuring any clarity of mind. Our only focus is on unending company posters and LCD screens that flash. LOOK, SHOCK, FAMILIAR, SAME. Destined to dose desire with death as we walk beside them trying not to notice the most obvious thing imaginable.

You have to look; they know you're designed like that.  Receptive pupils without a teacher, merely an authority, the nameless ‘man’. Poking prodding, squeezing and squashing till little, if anything remains intact.

Keep the quo; keep the peace, the lies, the dirt, rot and ignorance for your eventual grief. Our eyes may gape open, well with tears, brim, leak, and burn down the face in a river of searing fire. So act. Act! Act? The play is nearly over and we've barely performed.

But you're not the hipster, indie kid, raver, beat, gangster, suit or psychonaut.  Labels are for supermarkets; people aren't  'big value' or 'pesto chicken'.  Society desires us to be cheapened, reduced and sold out before a price of worth can even be conceived.

All our wants are in our minds. To some, a mental deficiency, a quirk, kook, a reason you are outside and they are not. So as men, women, rich, poor, brown, pink, happy and sad, all suck and swell our lungs with combined status as million to one champions of the sperm race.  Walking there, on that street, with those people who've been trying just as hard as you to avoid any contact. Do not feel guilt, do not have shame for your inaction. Do not let moments pass, do not be part of the failure. Just do.