Safe

all the sunny streets look the same

so bright

so perfect

so fucking boring

their lawns grow

on the excrement of dead dreams

their flowers stink

of mundane ambition 

and their fences maintain 

the illusion

the lie

that anything here is unique

false narratives are the pollen of suburban hypnosis 

where neighbors vomit friendly smiles at each other 

and call it honey

honesty does not live here

never did

it stays locked inside

of a run down flat

on a rainy boulevard 

between two deep dark alleys

the only place it feels safe