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bangers
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Making Friends
How could any conscientious sole with a brain to call it's own give in to nesting instinct for a night and say '
Baby I'm so bored, why don't we create a life?
We're so bad at making friends I think that we should make our own.' We're hopelessly devoted to this old ideal that distance and procreation's progress.
It's maybe just the fear talking.
I'm so terrified that we'll all age and we'll all die that I don't know what I'd say if I was asked '
Dad it seems so futile, why should I do anything?'
I fear that I'd just shrug cause I'm still asking the same question.
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