A matrix of waste
A battle between being hidden and in view. Others wants and desires dancing outside of the window. Do they not know their counterproductive ways, ones in which land privy to the eyes of a stubborn child? They are seen and discarded. No more will be shown, especially amongst resistant flowing wants. You will not know if I am here; or on a boat, adrift the mountains. In bed, or putting turkey on crackers. The I Want Tracker; built by admiration turned obsession. Both totally inundated in power play. Gross. To possess another. The ugliness that eludes this facet of the human condition, is ugly. Can we not love, without the need to squeeze the object of our desire to death?