The Cuervo Gold sun rises upon a new day. The hundred-dollar bill green trees rustle in the Wall Street trade-winds that blow past the book stores that house the most precious periodicals. Titles such as Cosmopolitan and Maxim have earned places in the windows. The temperature, at 72 degrees Fahrenheit has nearly reached the national average I.Q. without breaking a sweat on the brow of the office professionals just joining their father's business. An almost decent person helps an elderly citizen across a busy intersection when she has spare time. She doesn't bother saying good-by when she realizes no one is bearing witness to her good deed. The cogs in her head are working overtime to find the best way to modestly advertise her sacrifice. A young man's mind is venturing into the unimaginable as he experiments with the best way to touch himself to get the greatest climax. A collection of students study the statistics of war, hypothesize about presidents and other notable leaders, and consider the best new shoes. Meanwhile the sound of the falling bombs, and exploding land mines around the globe never reaches their young ears. A budding boy of fifteen lays out his opinions of the world, not too unlike the sports commentators sitting in his TV room at his house the night before. His logic is ignored by the uncaring hearts of his audience. The brilliance behind his logic is made dull by its dispersement. A twenty-something year old woman turns to God for guidance. Unable to focus long enough on prayer, she assumes the Alpha and Omega has taken a vacation so that He might simultaneously pose for portraits to be used by the Church of Latter-Day Saints, the Baptists, and the Jehovah's Witnesses in an attempt to salvage back-slidden Jews. Television sets play courtroom footage deciding the outcome in cases dealing with drugs, and worse; Baseball. An Afghan, always mistaken as a Punjabi, makes a $30 sale in his Qwik Mart from a carton of cigarettes. A newborn wakes up, sensing for a moment that the world has begun to rotate around someone else. Someone swears to their sister that he aren't shallow. For effect he admits that at one time he might have been...but he's outgrown it. Two best friends that have known one another their whole lives, share their eclectic iPod libraries with one another, feeling haughty for a moment, though not a single song either of them has is performed in a language other than English. A loud thunder clap is heard as an enormous cooperative either pats themselves on the back, or beats themselves up unnecessarily.

A hyper-active boy runs out of his front door and onto a short yellow bus...His mother can't afford the car it takes to drive him to school. A young girl turns her pillow to the dry side so she can stop lying her head in her worrysome tears. What if she's not cool enough? Pretty enough? Rich enough at school? Her sister is realizing she's running out of time to be the baby of the family. But that's all she's had to hold onto to...that title, since she's been ignored as far as her desires and ambitions.

3,000 miles away an adult male is stripped of a comfort, and the ability to flush his own shit down the toilet. His car, of which he is undeserving requires costly services, including an oil change and 100,000 mile check up. Whether or not he'll admit it, he's probably due for the same thing. His lottery ticket is a nice book-mark. He feels as though he's been pushed out of the womb, and ran too far to try to go back. Forced from his cocoon too soon, and now some bully child has crushed it. Still, a simple 6 hours brings 120 dollars, and that poor child is afraid her clothes won't be new enough. He's afraid.

Once upon a time he had tides to control...stars to ignite. Let him out of here give him back all his dreams.

Afraid to cry. Afraid to be fake. Afraid to hurt anyone. Afraid to hurt. Afraid to be as shallow. Tired of being so different. Not being able to fit regardless. Afraid that the IM window won't blink back. Afraid that the voicemail is the last memory he'll have of that voice.
Don't confuse his confusion for stupidity. His prudence for prude-ness. Don't confuse his loneliness for being alone. Don't confuse his sadness for disappointment. His separation as a superiority complex. Nor his engagement for recession. His fear for weakness.
He's just alone.
What happened to a youth of pranking. Of friends. Of parties? Of wanting to drink? Of thinking lame stuff was cool? Fearing a joint account...finding oral sex disgusting. What happened to not worrying if he made less than 35,000 a year? Worrying that he must make his name before 22? Can I really only be 19?!

Is it being afraid?

Being confused?

Or being alone?

The shallow lakes see a polluted sun sink behind a wall of disregard...alone.