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The party was like a night shift
on the line in a chicken factory -
- endless, sweaty and hostile,
disposable humanity ending in bins,
disposable dreams ending in bins
That night everybody seemed so ugly,
pathetic and fake!
So he nodded when somebody offered
few drops of acid on a sugar cube
His body was light like a halo
and he went for a little flight.
Suddenly he didn’t know
why he’d ever cared
about what other people thought and said
Now that he could fly,
he made it over the cricket pitch,
soared above the bank with brambles,
to fly over the bypass
The car must’ve been big -
- the impact was like an explosion.
His body was bound to the tarmac,
and he prayed it was just a bad trip
But the blood tasted too real.
No more boredom in his life,
no more caring and not caring,
just a big adventure called death
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This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.
Dreams, desires, id and ego.
This poem is about our failure to feel fulfilled by our constant consumption of life.
Read it and find out.