trapped / these streets are like walls closing in on me / with spikes that are inching closer to my sanity, ready to tear me to shreds / already they are puncturing my lungs / it burns to breathe in this awful suburb and it's mirrored houses with the people smiling / the venom seeping through their teeth / my mind is collapsing into itself / not neat like a fabric napkin / like a telephone number written on a bar napkin crumbled in your back pocket