Dystopia

Not one newport in sight,

and I am almost out of magic beans.

How will I then climb the beanstalk?

I shiver already.

 

If that is my life in a nutshell, somebody

crack me open, and discard me.

Or just replenish these missing goods.

 

I try to keep indestructibility lowkey.

 

There is a storm coming tonight.

True story. Tonight in Tampa Bay.

And there is nothing you, or I

can do to stop, or enhance it.

It is simply beyond our hands.

 

I can sometimes be a buzz kill.

I tried once humility.

Your bad indeed.

I blame you personally.

 

Let’s all cut it out with this

grey equals bad nonsense.

Because grey is good, grey is,

I cringe at the word, but empathy.

 

Grey, as with brown, may be

the rendering of combining

any unmixable colors.

 

If you’re new to painting,

you might be naive enough

to ever purchase gray paint.

 

So to speak, by seeing in greys

one is seeing the best in colors

furthest from one’s own.

 

Which is like empathy.

A lot like empathy, actually.

And although I will not provide

you with a link, I promise you

this is not just me who says this.

 

But seeing, and speaking are two

different things, for example:

I see you are not the spawn of satan.

 

That is what I have said to you.

That is the legwork of my empathy.

That is what I’m offering you.

 

This is hardly about dystopia,

but you know,

you gotta do what you gotta do.
I’m running late for an appointment .

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