What is human anymore?

Is it walking around and looking at each other?

Staring with those searchful eyes? Feeling nothing but an array of void.

Was it consciousness that made us what we are? Or was it the survival instinct?

Are we in a world surrounded by strangers in which we are strangers to ourselves?

Piles of men upon men upon men? Which form a pile of meat? Which form a pile of you?

What is pile anymore? Mass has already lost its meaning. We shall stream to the mass, and the mass shall listen.

Boy? Won't you listen? You are a bug, a mere critter in this world.

Boy? Can't you see? You try so hard to push the world around you? But the world is indifferent, so morose.

It's sardonic, it's so ironic, even passive at times.

Boy? You won't get what you'll be searching for until you understand.

Everything is morrow, it keeps pushing itself so it can feel the constant stream of movement.

But what happens when the stream of conciousness gets polluted?

What happens when we spit into the world our endless lakes of thought, and form our own islands?

Is it that great to isolate ourselves and only leave when we need something the most?

The thoughts? A food for other conscious beings? What happens when it gets too glutenous?

Sometimes things are forgotten and eventually are picked back when they seem to be useful again.

Are we the BEST? The TOP 10? Are we the most unforgettable experience? Have we pleased our mass?

Why is it that the extremes are always the best? While the other parts are left behind?

Why do we always eat the softer side of bread and leave the crust behind?

Don't we also need the hard truths to survive?

When did we forget ourselves?