The feet caress the silenced floors
The eyes delightfully shriek at the intoxicating images that carve the divergent atoms
The fingers dance across the tantalizing haze of consumerism.
We're in the supermarket.

How much can we take until it's considered ****?

We are drowning in a pool of tortillas
Our senses are toiled away from the capability to mindlessly self-inflict
We are penetrated by blissful locomotives

Be practical, they say
That's a mans job!, they say
I am deaf.

I foolishly push the masculine carts
I taste the hysterical white privilege as it burns down my throat into an endless ride of heavenly ignorance.