Present surroundings enervating,

So suffocating the throat closes like one’s reaction to a food allergy

Molding one’s outdoor activities to fit the scrutinizing eyes of the neighborhood,

Feeling very uneasy being viewed and judged by those with no mouths

Eyes becoming wet thinking about living in this shrink wrapped locale,

In which any sliver of amity fails to materialize itself

Assuming that mystery is the secret to life,

These meddling folks have voided that concept entirely

Though most of them can’t carry a conversation to their mailbox,

They wait for the individuals next door to fail for personal justification

Predicting all along that they envisioned the bad news imminent,

Reminding one and all that it’s hell on Earth living next door to prophets