A Revealing Monolouge

I went to a Matt Good concert on Saturday and as my friend and I waited in the parking lot, a certain hotel across the street caught our eyes. There stood, what appeared to be, a naked man in the window just watching the street down below. This is the tale of his plight.

I, the naked man, stand at the window watching the tiny clothed ants down below rush about. They walk hurriedly toward some unknown destination. Little do they know they run from themselves every morning when they put on their shirts and pants. They do not see themselves for who they really are, they are cowards of their very own self.
Cloths have hurled angst and sometimes an itchy discomfort at humanity. Every time I imprison myself with polyester or cotton I become the same as the rest. I hang my head in shame as I look at the shoes that drown my feet in sorrow.

They do not understand, all I want to do is buy some oranges. I feel a cold coming on and I need the vitamin C. If I were to buy an orange naked, the consequences society would enforce on me would be too great. Why can’t they understand? The clothed are the ones in the wrong. Perhaps the police should arrest the clothed. Free your selves free the naked I say!

A tear trickles down my cheek as I look down the road at the grocery store. I do not wipe this tear away, it reminds me of who I am. I am a man who is unaccepted in society, a man who has no friends, I am a pioneer blazing a trail in solitude but most of all I am the naked man.