The Chimera of Generations

they don't want dramatic parents anymore sentimental they got bored of them they are sick of exaltation they don't want the vehemence of which the parents hung on convinced that it would be freedom we those with a muzzle swollen by history we look at them with trembling eyes in hidden tears we do we wake up? or die? we died we woke up but they discreetly wrap around around contre jour on an old heart another world vehemence our only final reward they scratch their fine ears and they offer us an image about which we do not know they do not know they don't tell us anything easy to be as easy as possible existential flake on an anonymous wall easy easy and no windowsill to look at no return airport no word on current status nothing past or bandaged just to be easy you pay this time trust me at least once drinking beer together I just follow the trajectory of a flake I keep my eyes closed like a child and I imagine that you overcome life's difficulties in that lifetime of a snowflake and then i let you go