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Showing stories tagged with #urban-alienation Clear filter
I wish I could climb these duvet mountains. Escape the wallpaper that threatens to blind me. Run free of the raindrops and sweat that salivate from the dirty city.
Stars twinkle in the sky. Shinning bright ever so high. Some soaring leaving a streak. Some wide awake just gleaming with gleem. Making shapes of what's already there. Just like Vincent Van Gogh.
The start My Grim Life Chapter one I had survived another day; I woke up as normal, shaved, showered and dressed in my cheap suit as normal.
Dusty paths of endless grey, Once the hunter, now the prey, Stumble through crowds of blurry strife, Busy murmur of urban life, People upon people, who couldn't care less, With their own problems,...
I shut my eyes to the world and I see a little boy at the pier, watching ships undock; daydreamer eyes in a mist of strange and distant lands that wouldn't yield to the sound of gunfire.
Working almost everday . Eventhough it's just 9hours a day , the inbetween hours were dreadful & great at times . But I made it through , some huge problems for me to handle & some minor ones .
Stuck inside this modern jungle, Concrete everywhere. Meeting other people's standards, Lay before them bare. So much more than expectations, Weighing on my brow.
It felt like something echoing through the cargo. My fear. When i looked out of the window of the train, homes, green pastures passes behind me, like something as virtual as on a television screen.
#emotion We're on a set path, can't help but deviate it. Breaking our backs but left unappreciated. Long names so elegant now abbreviated. Play is work, always agitated.
#acorn I'm stuck in this town, Walking around and around, Searching feverishly for green leaves, Or just a fresh breeze, ...Please.
Lacklustre days filled with erratic rain that stain my clothes. What today and tomorrow holds, I already know. I'm on a train to somewhere, for reasons unknown. On a crowded carriage I'm on my own.
Why do you stare at me stranger. Do I offend you Is it the way I walk Or the way I do my hair. Why do you stare at me stranger. Is it the way I talk The way I dress Do I confuse you.
I'm stuck in this town, Walking around and around, Searching feverishly for green leaves, Or just a fresh breeze, ...Please.
In the end, he was just the same as everyone else in the crowd; they all wanted to be different. He brushed past the freaks, the ravers and the stoners.
It is impossible to rest The nuclear energy of society stops for no-one. If we attempt to take our foot off the gas, our internal flywheel thunders on Preventing our engine from stopping.
My favourite poem of all time.