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kayla-morrisonPoems
People say they want to live in a small town, but when I look out my window all I see is Zero. I look out my left window, Zero. I glance out my right window, Zero. The daily routines, an Act Without Words. We go through the motions in a small town, get up, smile at people we hate, hope for something more, repeat. In a small town you bite your tongue, just to keep the peace. Did you bleed today? There’s no point in asking how someone is because we already know. Each new piece of gossip strings us along, Beckons teases. The small town will hold anything over your head. It will dangle a divorce suspend a separation and hang up a hook up. In a small town, the space between people’s teeth revealed by their fake smiles serve as cre- Nells People rave about the fields of grass, and the trees. In each patch of green lies un lucky Clov- ers The fresh air is fetid. The stink of the town’s ***** laundry is enough to make any argument for the town Null. Zero. It’s almost genetic, the little Nagg- lings in the school yard, slicing, dividing, cutting people like cake. Settling for small town life, is a fate worse than Hamm- lets think about it. No excitement. No privacy. No trust. Zero.
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Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
Small Town
People say they want to live in a small town, but when I look out my window all I see is Zero. I look out my left window, Zero. I glance out my right window, Zero. The daily routines, an Act Without Words. We go through the motions in a small town, get up, smile at people we hate, hope for something more, repeat. In a small town you bite your tongue, just to keep the peace. Did you bleed today? There’s no point in asking how someone is because we already know. Each new piece of gossip strings us along, Beckons teases. The small town will hold anything over your head. It will dangle a divorce suspend a separation and hang up a hook up. In a small town, the space between people’s teeth revealed by their fake smiles serve as cre- Nells People rave about the fields of grass, and the trees. In each patch of green lies un lucky Clov- ers The fresh air is fetid. The stink of the town’s ***** laundry is enough to make any argument for the town Null. Zero. It’s almost genetic, the little Nagg- lings in the school yard, slicing, dividing, cutting people like cake. Settling for small town life, is a fate worse than Hamm- lets think about it. No excitement. No privacy. No trust. Zero.
kayla-morrison
Written by
kayla-morrison
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
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