Etched on your skin in a flashy display of permanence is the exact opposite. Your flighty morals, your ever-shifting ideals, your lifestyle that will veer to encompass what ever is easiest at any given time... it's all there on the surface. And what's worse is it's not just you. It's an epidemic, sweeping the population and contaminating those far and near. Nothing means anything, anymore. In the frantic search for constant stimulation, anything goes--As long as it's watered-down. There is a no-holds-barred attack on anything of value; truth is painful because it forces you to examine the possibility of change. And when everyone's footloose and fancy free, who'd want to change anyway? Happiness has become the god you worship from front porches, never once considering stepping out into reality.
There may be a glorious solidity of knowledge "out there," but you'll never know. You're too encombred by the grey fog into which you've unknowingly chosen to dive headfirst. The scent of comfort has intoxicated your senses, and it's mark is tattooed on your flesh.
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