Walking

No. DRAGGING.

from place to place,

looking for the next big thing.

No; our next escape.

Having existential crises at the age of innocence.

Having doubts that that still even exists.

Drawing on walls,

and complaining on blogs

about an economy, a society that continues to fall.

Seeing faceless people,

hearing spaceless, though empty hearts.

Believed to be superficial, but watch them break apart.

Fears of a zombie apocalypse mean absolutely nothing.

We all are nearly dead inside, unable to be touched by something.

Anything, or one day anyone.

Once alive and kicking have now become something else entirely.

Indifferent, unmoved, unshaken? Precisely.

A constant state of fear and not caring anymore.

But what of it? What if there is a cure?

Would you listen, or would you allow your fears to keep you unsure?

We don’t listen because we live in fear.

We are dead.