I grew tired of Roger Waters. At first it rang so true,
but then warehouses of butter are a necessity if I want to have a family night with popcorn and the kids….
And big Pharma, evil as they are, keep me alive. I can function well enough to provide for the kids — so what is the price we pay?
I’m probably not the first biped, that lifted his head out of the muck and realized the garden of eden was just on the other side of a camera lens.
I started listening to female vocalists.
My companions while I did the dishes, and the laundry.
They taught me about me too, long before it explosively decompressed across the internet.
In them I hear your voice, the one that gets excited when I tell you I’m on my way home.
And the one that the slights on the edge of tears, and wants to be held close.
The one I fix things for.