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Lunch

I sit, with my legs
Pretzel-ed up, I twist
And contort
To conform.
But what a useless task,
To conform,
When my neighbor
Chomps
And chews
And grazes,
He is a mule, we have engineered
Eating pure byproduct,
Content to be unloved.

I don't love
Them.
Disgusting,
I see, he spits and
Chews
While globs
Of chewed
Spit
And disgusting
Unloved
Unwanted.....

I turn.
Across the vast sea
A plain of dark carpet
Rubbed and mashed
With waste. With grime
And foul old food
I heard it was green.
The walls are littered
With accounts:
The testament of true class
Who promise it was once green,
The carpet.

I turn.
Where a young
Idiot blathers
Out and onward
As no one listens to him.
The stupid young fool
Spits his splotches
Of chewed old grimy
Waste and his bleating stretches into
Nowhere.
I am the only one.
He is not aware that I am aware,
How young
And stupid
He is.
But he realizes it himself.
Which is why he cries so loud.
So no one will hear him.

And I try eating
Because I must be
An idiot too.
I must be the world's
Most ignorant,
Hypocritical...
Why bother?
It will get more spoiled,
The old food
The dank carpet,
My withering
Perturbed brain.
So why bother?




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