I hate this town
The beige color hangs all over it
The sky is heavy and frigid
Not the kind of frigid that invigorates you
Not the kind of frigid that runs through you
Not the kind of frigid that buzzes around you and causes the hairs on your arms to rise
The kind of dull, heavy, good-for-nothing frigid that is like a wet blanket on you.
This town absorbs the inspiration from me
Like how the universe ***** all of our souls eventually
With cruel passion no longer how you fail to escape it
This is the town that grows on you
Like a parasite