Mutter all you want, these things move where they will. Like continents, only countries and cultures. We woke ourselves to a new reality, color explosions and razor thin skin. It's too bad, chuckling and joshing each other was a blast, roasting was an art. Things just don't seem funny anymore.
I blame myself and God and the devil, of course. Only perspective can change, the thing is the thing, uncontrollable as ever, a glowing pixel screen, a mighty megaphone, follower bots and ranters. Get to a million and you can be somebody, those days are over. For real. For real for real.
Because dogs are fed up, our attentions have been taken. Cats, too, probably. I wouldn't know, actually, they might not care. Either way, enough is enough. Let's all nap in the quiet, it's been a great wake.
