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Suburban Hell

As I stumble through this existence I wander past Rows of stark stone prisons Encaging sad suburban souls Within their lifeless, faced-brick cells. They mete out their unhappy existences Behind tired chintz masks Vying with each other In uselessness And emptiness Trying to be the first To new levels of unhappiness. They seek to pacify Their material gods With plastic offerings Lain before a brushed chrome altar. They have the same oneness of mediocrity, Of outward decency And inward moral gangrene. They talk of the weather, The news, The garden And inside they lust For fornication To the world they are virtuous And to the universe nothing Forever NOTHING. 13/07/1990
Published inAngerJourneyLifePoemSadnessSocietyWalk

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