Hollowed, ruthless, cunning. You speak to each other as if robotic manikin’s. Wired to the machine as if an actor in some grand illusion.
Too Long to retain soulful laughter.
Too Long to catch a spark from your fleeting humanity.
When the conductor pulls this grinding train to a halt and the hostess announces your stop, will you stare with the same blank expression of a manikin, too wired into the floor to imagine continued existence? Too absorbed in you own self interests to reach beyond?
What have you become?
What are you doing here?
If life’s purpose truly lies between the ruffling of little paper notes, then let it feed you when the lights dim over your cold crisp breath.