He was blind and numb
and uncharacteristically baffled.
He, who usually ran with precision and strength,
and smiled like the Sun incarnate,
was completely winded by grey.
It was unthinkable.
Unfathomable even.
He was blind and numb,
surrounded by prestige
and pomp and any car you could think of.
So many plush rooms you can't sleep
in the same one in one week even
if you picked 2 different rooms a night.
And the choice of bodies, you would think innumberable;
yet he remains blind and numb,
but is it such a bad thing?
This grey,
this web of clinging depression
is comforting.
Because he owns it, it doesn't own him,
unlike everything else around him.
It's so grey, close and smothering,
but in a cold and smiling way.
They call it privelege and the world of
the elite and VIP.
Of good scotch and endless arms to fall into,
except they're not there, really,
because you are alone, you realize.
It's nothing.
Just more bullshit
to leave you blind and numb,
but this is not a bad thing.
You are lucky not for the wealth or revenue,
but of Knowledge known.
Indeed, there you are wide-eyed and fully nerved,
where as they remain blind and numb,
and worse yet, deaf and truly dumb.
A golden Prince among the everyman people,
a lonely nobody just the same.
Smiling into grey and comforted
by darkness and lack of touch.
To be envied, oh yes,
but they choose all the wrong reasons.

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