I am bare and torn

A barren land of fortitude.

You're slick-haired, clean, and driven.

Ambitious and self-righteous

You move your weight in shopping malls,

On football fields, at backyard parties.

Your cultures, your words,

Fake smiles, "how are you?"

Illusions of connection.

"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation."

Not happy, but content?

Henry said it better...

I'm a bearded @^*! with tattered feet. 

You're dying. I'm living

Like an animal:  woolen, bleeding, filthy.

I am two-armed, two-legged, I kill with my hands.

I've eaten from the tree that has no name.

And I'm not one to make up words.

I breathe and sleep, I eat, I drink.

There is no me, only shuffling sounds of feet on leaves;

Oxygen, carbon monoxide that will someday cease to emit,

And the ground will eat the energy inside me.

RATE THIS CHAPTER!

Click to View Author Guidance

"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation."

-Henry David Thoreau

updated Apr 23 '11 by Brozekial