suburban decay

the age of beauty
in urban decay
is failing as we watch
the sullen collapse
of suburban mimicry
the well planned
even rows of monopoly houses
set in sigils
to call forth the elder ones
that slumber aeons deep
beneath the empty malls
tumbleweed laden parking lots of
cracked asphalt
in front of closed down
strip mall shops
but those bastards
at the pawn shops
are raking in the dough
paying pennies on the dollar
for hopes and dreams
while the world wilts
under the
stare of a disappointed sun
in all the billions of odds
against
a petri dish sprouting life
only to have them all
crippled by anxiety
or worried they might offend
a subset
of a subset
of a subset
of a microcosm
that they phrase everything
to come off as sterile as shit
fresh from the incubator
goddamn savages and vultures
standing guard
with tyrannosaurus arms
when someone is down
but sure as shit able to
pat each other on the backs
evolved into
self fellating asexual predators
and the line at the pawn shop
stretches
down the block
like so many ants
waiting for government cheese
or enough
from grandpa’s prize
pocket watch collection
to get a
cheeseburger and blow job
behind the chili’s
down by the interstate

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