Blank stares and Empty threats

It's when I walk away
my feet trotting, one in front of the other.
I hear the voices fading, from the deep conversation they just engaged themselves in. Nobody has a pink tie, nobody has a shirt on, not even women.
They're naked, they're wholesome, and they're beautiful.
But nobody looks at their breasts, and nobody looks at my breasts.
They all look at each other's faces. They look at my face.
With concern, and envy and hidden secrets.
It's something like this, so simple that would make the world a better place.
If we were all naked, and didn't have to worry about clothing -- or having enough money to buy it, or worrying about whose going to make fun of them from where they got them from.

No more thrift store, no more goodwill, just us human beings all natural.
In our natural habitats.

It's when I see everybody hugging each other, with their breasts and genitals touching,
and I hear everybody laughing with each other about how happy they all are,
telling each other what they do and don't have in common.
It's all so beautiful, you could cry.

You could just sit your naked ass in the soil and water the plants with your tears.
What if we were all natural and carefree?

Maybe one day we'll burn all of our clothes and finally let loose.

Until then, my clothes are dirty, and I killed the washer.