Suffocation

muffinmania583 on May 9, 2009

A piece on the downside of city life.

The birds here aren’t composed of feathers and flesh and bone

The only birds here are made of metal

Skyscrapers, domineering behemoths over us

Night never seems to come

Sun is substituted by the endless array of neon lights

All the tress are cut down

And in memory, we name our streets after them

This place is like a gas chamber

Every breath only kills you more

Some say the place is spectacular

Some say its shit

Suffocation is the word to describe it

This place is worse than a Lovecraftian nightmare

I want to run but wherever I go, it surrounds me

I want to scream

But I’m being suffocated

1
Liked it

Comments (1)

ladybaby on May 9, 2009
Reminds me of something I read on the inter net yesterday. My grand daughter told me to type in \”The story of Stuff\” and watch the video. If you get the chance, take a look at it. It is really amazing. We are indeed suffocating on all THE STUFF we are surrounded with. Our world is in a sad state. Good poem. Makes one think about what is happening.

Hi there!