Sweetie,

I'm sorry that I keep staring at the other boys.
And keep thinking of the other girls,

But if I'm being honest,

If you ever left me
Love would be a forgotten feeling
That I never want to reclaim.

I may crave the skin of others,
But my beating heart is in your hands.

The light is pouring in, and it is a blurred line between hope and fear.
A fissure in this casing grows into a crack, and then it all lets loose.
Like waking up in fog, the light burns it away.
This separateness is a killer, severing my connection to God, and all
of the loss that entails.
But now instead of seeking solace in a chemical illusion, I can look  
within and just watch it go.
This is what you wanted.
An open heart, a willingness to learn acceptance.

Privacy is a relic
Living vicariously through a piece of blue glass
Shameless exhibitionism, our every move, thought, opinion, judgement, like, and dislike screamed into the void
Demanding validation
While the algorithms tell us what to think, buy and feel we shun reality more every day
Cognitive incarceration
Wake up!
What comes of all this is a chronic dissatisfaction, always begging for more
Hungry ghosts, we will never be satisfied

I am sorry for what we have done to you
I mourn the loss of your short lives, nullified for our barbaric arrogance and gluttony
Your children taken to meet the same fate as you
Your bodies eviscerated, never knowing the hand of compassion or a ray of sunshine

There are no merciful abattoirs

No red barn with it's open doors, and no motherly blue sky

There is only brutal indifference

Mechanized slaughter

The lies we tell our children and ourselves will breed this hell on earth into our legacy
And we who see ourselves distinct from beasts prove with our actions otherwise

This is not food

This is war on the sanctity of being