The social contract is broken. Where once, we could be almost certain that effort is rewarded - after leaving the cave and the anguish of growth in the ability to provide for whole societies- squandered this brief bloom. A contract you nor I had any say in creating, are expected to abide by in decorum, to behave peacefully, to wait your turn, to be magnanimous to our fellows. Tell me then, are you allowed to compete in the way that is suited best for you? Not I. Notty camp it is. Ties and binds. Yet, there are no ties at all that keep us here. Just the winding eyes, and teeth that clack and whistle. Some things are hard to choke down. Like when you told me to wait to come over, you needed to shower and I was already there, parked down the street. I said "OK" and watched you get in the truck and drive somewhere. At least my wife doesnt have a boyfriend. That was a special kind of humiliation I never agreed to. Dark, dark, dark, isnt. As disappointing as a mistaken drink. Ok poets, we get it: this thing is like that thing and like the other thing. So creative. I fucking hate poetry. I should write more of it.