Scranton has me wrapped
around its broken finger
I fell abruptly into the palm
of Philadelphia
with eager eyes
and shaking hands
but the boring consistency
of a quiet purgatory
is too easy to come home to
And truth be known,
I am no artist
I'm just an other
tired college student
with displaced anger,
alcohol poisoning
& a surplus of anxiety
thriving on a tethered
thread of hope some
sad boy with a guitar
gave me in high school
and it's wearing thin