suburbia
 

you can hear the...


suburbia chime, zirconia vertebrae. pearly white spine
glass thrown in stone houses, regular suburbia night
whirring, rewind. chronicled childhood in olive drab paint
monocle glass. wormwood and bottles of shawshank.
dissolute solitude, wanderer who wallows in maze
en route. delay for tomorrow. never promised today
virgin diary. anne frank. marie curie disease
tinture of rainbow, even if the distance is blurry to me
he who knows the way to zihuatenejo.
furlough father. demand you to die when i say so
26 pesos what's left in your wallet
lint and mothball, merryland. plexiglass omelette.
laundromat arcade quarter exchange
2 o clock shadow of death and follicle strain
these boulders were supposed to be gone when i got here
you shouldered me off. sunday morning penny loafer with frost
social commentary gabriel-lucifer talk
metamucil, retrograde. jupiter star
bolivian roast, oblivion, and a toast goes to mars
you hold my hand; but i don't even know who you are
shout at me when indoors, but whisper weak when afar
im so close to eroding, skin growth, barely a scar
in my house; the big wolf. lungs pulse til' exhaustion
i read a suicide note from the ghost in my closet
i dont know, if he knows if this apartment is haunted
by patriarchal pettiness, reminiscent negligent heart
maleficent maligned distant/forgot insidious offspring
with ammunition in their lips, that keep you off guard
feel the metacarpal love letters til your fingers fall off
once you step out the door, you hear the wooden creak in the floor
fell asleep at the creek daydreaming before
everytime before bed i hear footsteps coming from deep
and i hide my in my closet, until they delete
REM hits me while I'm counting my sheep
counting rosary beads for every step wolf takes towards me
like neighborhood freeze tag, counting to 3
dysfunctional beings, huffing in suburbia breeze
i know that i know nothing is in love when i speak
into denizens, the medicine cabinet only creaks
when you close it and i haven't heard it in weeks
form bourbon, to curtains burnt at the seams
I'm so close to being the opposite of perfect, i scream
what emerges, a bird sits perched in a tree
what alerts him is
suburbia breeze

1st

I enjoyed this a lot more than your other piece. I do feel like you are trying to emulate Deadman, but that is cool, deadman's style is dope. AT any rate, you captured the existential loneliness and boredom which our society pushes as success. So....good job buddy!

3st.

Didnt get it but enjoyed reading it. The ghost and REM/sheep lines were great. Witty throughout. Cool call back with zihuatenejo to the shawshank mention a few lines before. Rhymes and technique top tier throughout. Good stuff.

The newest Bon Iver album is awful.

Who ru

This reminds me of someone but I cant think of who...




Either way this was very impressive in its length.
its not very easy fitting all these ideas in one line.
but you make it work with the way you form each word
it might be because Im high but I caught on to the flow quick.
the way you do shit like this

26 pesos what's left in your wallet
lint and mothball, merryland. plexiglass omelette.
laundromat arcade quarter exchange
2 o clock shadow of death and follicle strain
^^^^

dope shit btw..

that shit is just crazy though, & then you pick it up
drop it on its head and go a different route with it is slick
hard to do for most but with you it just appears so easy.
dope work right here breh