Anthropocentric HTML version

Byron would have liked to have been a poet, but he wasn’t very good with words, his
heart had the poetry, his tears bypassed language. Alot of animals have the capacity
to love, no other animal but the human has the capacity to hate. There is a civilisation
wide delusional feeling of grandeur on this place, a phenomena which might be
somewhat ironic, cause mirth even, to those that can sit, watch, and realise. The folk
that laugh to themselves in the many establishments designed for the mentally
unhinged, I believe they get it. Give them the world and go home for jelly I say,
you’ll feel better. And before this fictional story starts, pay human kind the greatest
honour, and laugh at yourself. With respect, you’re funny.
Mr Diaeh stared with a mix of pretend apathy and real disappointment at the scrap of
paper upon which the advert had been written. It had been three weeks since it had
been placed, and it had run for the full three weeks since. He had received the usual
abusive response, it had amused him at first when he collected the mail from the post
office box. Now it was merely vexing; threats on his life, from people who did not
know him, the recipient of a dozen leaflets from a dozen different religious groups,
offering their help. Now you may ask, what of these believers and their gods a
plenty, do they not give credence to the previous statement of anthropocentrism? I
will merely speculate; however high the power, humankind does not do humble.
Someone had even sent Byron a packet of razor blades, the note attached said “see
you on the other side”. Byron could not raise a smile to this one. The cup of coffee
under his nose began to steam his reading glasses, the noise from the coffee shop
began to filter back in, Byron added a sigh to the general blare. He sat uncomfortably
in his middle twenties, of average height and weight (if not a little undernourished).
The one redeeming feature he held was the cause of the destined solitude he had
endured his whole life. Beneath his dark and untidy hair, matted in places, hid his
eyes of indistinguishable colour. They were dark, of that people were sure, but how