Blank Eyes

I stare into those eyes looking for some sort of sign of life.  Some sort of intelligence.  Some spark that lets me know the lights are on and someone is home.  Anything that tells me I'm not better off just staying behind closed doors and talking to the walls.

All too often I end up disappointed and feeling like an outsider of my own design simply because I don't "let go and let God."

I used to spend a lot of time actively hating my enemies.  Now I'm more content to ignore them, knowing that given enough time they will find ways to do themselves in.  For the rest of the world, I tried to find a connection and ended up realizing is that I don't want to connect with the vast majority of people who have never even looked into that internal mirror.

I am happy with a very close circle of friends, the kinds of people I can discuss anything with and get a lively debate from.  The kinds of people who don't possess the blank eyes and crooked grins of someone who has been spiritually lobotomized by over stimulation and a gluttonous diet of prefabricated nonsense delivered via IV.  I am happy to look into their eyes and see that spark.  And even at their worst, their darkest moments, those times where self-doubt becomes self-hate and fear starts winning the fight -- I am happy because they are alive.

And so many others are the walking dead. 

Thank you, fine folks.  Let the morning break ...