Sated.
Saturated
Completely jaded.
Twisted beyond your ability
to cope.
My world frightens yours,
Huddle house,
Waffle house,
wannabe’s.
To your tables go,
trailing your life’s
absolutes.
You see me in the mirror,
behind your midnight snack.
and shudder to think of my abuse,
and hustle home to your shack,
and your twelve o’clock news.
Life isn’t what the commercials say,
not too exiting,
not too much play.
Yet still you seem to ponder,
as you watch your life lay.
And you view me,
one who has dismissed the rules,
as one to pity,
as one to abuse.
I still smile,
as I sense your fear,
but only after I have taken
what once you held near.
You see, there are no demons,
no vampires, no gargoyles here,
no zombies, no werewolves,
no unnatural fear.
Only me, your neighbor,
And all the things
that once you held dear.
there is only me.
and I am only you,
but for the fabric of lies,
that civilization
brings to your view .
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