I am not in the business of being you or him or her or they we doesn't even really interest me.
you hated me within the first 20 minutes like a shallow predator experiencing virginal danger you have the limbic system of a prey obvious to anyone in touch with their senses.
you were threatened- you cracked a joke and among the robotic laughter and among the generic thoughts I stood back, blank-faced a novel piece of art you haven't the ability to muster up the courage to understand.
aloud, I said it wasn't funny which I'm sure your emptiness already betrayed in a booming, and terrifying fashion (I'm an intellectual sadist- I get off watching you squirm) you know enough, that you have no basis that the status quo is the stale stream you do nothing but soak in.
you're superficiality is so pervasive that your thoughts are unfilled, plastic discarded long ago by anyone with stamina (you're a carbon-copy of a Xeroxed person) looking the same as the others of your degenerate breed with much less vibrancy than the original and far less worth.
your boundaries have been in place for so long passed down by generations of generations of generations great-great-granddaddy's barbed wire is the only thing protecting your prejudice.
you're not funny- you're scared ashamed and lonesome.
ashamed of the person you wish you could be but don't have the strength-or the guts to morph into lonesome because even yourself is someone you don't feel close to you are so basically human.