Suburbia

I only want to be consumed by something other than this worn-out, strung-out, fucked-up farming town.

Everyone here is jaded.

Every smile and eye I have seen a thousand times over,

Mine own run-down by their second-hand voices.

There is no love here, just re-runs.

We are dependent,

Intertwined,

Our thoughts and dreams are an inbred mess--

An ugly writhing thing on your laminate flooring.

They say you’re not supposed to bite the hand that feeds you,

but we've been suckling for so long their fingers have pruned.

Strung-out sobers, strung-out drunks,

We’re sitting in the blue bin,

Weather-worn

Sun-stained

Reuse, reduce, recycle.

Now rinse and repeat.

Reviews

[Samuel Riverside]

Wow. Just the first word that popped to my mind. Very interesting picture you painted with words.
You sound so angry. Fed up with hypocrisy and monotony. I hope you find freedom in your words and through expressing who you are. Even if no one else understands you.

[Billy Stark]

I no absolutely nothing about poetry but I love this.

[kelseyalexrose]

Why, thank you!