What a struggle, I want to live in the mountains.
This dense city overwhelms me.
I see plastic smiles, plastic affection, inflated plastic egos all around me.
Plastic's melting, the temperature's rising, the world's getting hotter - and louder.
I hear the noise: cars, angry dogs,
no birds. I shove my headphones in,
I shut my eyes; but it's too loud, too vivid.
I see perpetual battles between the Gods and colours.
I see billions of personalities, different realities.
I see material possessions on the pedestal, above love.
I see neglected fickle souls.
I see the cycle.
I sigh. I see no hope.
I ask myself: 'Why?'
I sigh. I've lost hope.
'We're right'
'You're wrong'
I shut up.
It doesn't interest me.
I know seeing eye to eye has never been heard of, but will we always be divided?
Yes? Maybe? No?
Never mind.
My bags are packed, my toes point to the mountains.
YOU ARE READING
Peeling clementine
PoetryThis is a collection of poems I've written this year. I wrote most of them at night, whilst the rest of the world was fast asleep. At night my brain seems to be more active, it's when I start to question everything. In this book you'll find themes s...
