The Empty Man

I am the empty man.
What do I do but live?
Work, food, porn, sleep.
Oh, there is always the Chiefs.

Where are my fathers who moved mountains?
Where are the wars that held glory?
I exist in a box of liquid crystals and chairs.
Sitting, always sitting.

Is this to be expected?
Maybe if there was a woman…
But with them it is just a different same.
With them it is just trips and clothes.

Maybe if there were kids…
I don’t know what I would do with one.
I guess it would have to go to school.
Do kids ever feel lonely?

I just remembered something:
I haven’t spoken to anyone today.
Another day to disappoint my therapist.
Sometimes I really hate the color of his walls.

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