We stare at nothing, where we live we rarely catch a worthy sight.

Instead, we see discarded trash from wasteful others.

These things bother us, but only us? No. Others, but still not enough.

Must one brush their teeth and feel guilty about throwing away their once new toothbrush, to have it float in the waste society abyss, with them, with us.

A corner of plastic is torn from a candy one sucks on, and we stare at its vibrant unnatural glow in the green grass—confused, angered, and sorry.

We sit as a piece in this broken puzzle; one day we will fall free from it, but until then we must thrive, live, breathe.

The one who sits, waits, and wastes—they are useless; there are many.

So mindless and blind to it.

What are these objects we hold so dear?

Why do we hold them so close to ourselves, closer than our own natural world?

At least it has crossed our minds; perhaps we are enlightened or ignorant.

But we are not enough, so it matters not what we are.

This is true, this is good, this is what we want.

To be unmarked, untraceable, irrelevant.

As we break away and sink into our natural world.