Only the coming rain

Can one get burned out on life, permanently?

Because

The truth?

I don't care

Since I can remember, I have been forced to care 

So much so that I was beaten and shamed for not caring

From this I realized that forcing me to care was a grand slight of hand shared

I realized I don't care about the authors of their own story, making such great effort as to cause me to maliciously sacrifice what I may have once cared about 

Now too much has changed

It has been too long

I don't remember

So much abuse and confusion, causing such static, around what I was forced to think (was a natural or rational base impulse)

I had forgotten to care about myself

Indeed this was the plan from the beginning

I then realized that I cared about very close nothing 

I lost interest in others contorted fantasy

Like an animal I appreciate the basics

Sun on my skin

Food in my belly, but not too much 

And a place to sleep...

safely and in the quiet of night

A reversion to the basics when all the people in your life have sacrificed you in order to author their own story

There is no story 

Only the coming rain 

Barry