I live in a world of artificial feelings, artificial pains, artificial desires, fabricated dreams and faked tortures.
With artificial trust I tell you about my day but when you don’t ask me to define ‘okay’ it becomes clear it is with artificial care you give me that polite nod and I dare not say anything real, for I fear it would not appeal to you.
Oh, what is real, by the way? Has anyone seen it, touched it, grasped it? Or is it a myth we all fantasise about?
Never mind. I say what I always say. You wouldn’t know the difference anyway.