I feel tired of chameleons, crap, and forced
social interactions that leave me feeling empty.
Watch for the funneled pinpoint of an eyeball,
once spotted the illusion is gone.

So, I find company in strangers, for I don't know
as much about them, so I am still fooled.
Treat them as friends and maybe they are.

I am bored of men, of children, of wine.
But not of art and accidents and material goods. 

I fill the void with everything but what I wish
I was strong enough to fill it with.

Feeling small. Feeling a surge of platonic emotion.
Counting the rhythm of the shuffle of my heels on concrete.

Tomorrow, I revisit the idea of bored and alone.
At least until 10 PM.