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.


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