Some kind of modern day wraith
Trapped in a suburban spin cycle
Waiting like a statue for the seasons to change
Days are damned by solitude
Night by masks and guides of lies
Try to block it out,
Shape up and keep clean.
Streets like a spider’s snare
Valleys of indecision that swallow whole lives.
And they really do want to change.
We’re all fucked up and drowning in the same fucking above-god backyard swimming pool.
Bromides, chlorine and dead animals.
If we stick together en masse there could be a change
But alone or in twos we cling together like rats and sink like stones
To lower depths of praetorian depression
And the abyssal trench of anxiety waits hungry for more souls
The mental illness monstrosity, scourge of a broken generation
Tears us apart and dopes us up with false promises of idyllic futures.
–Jack Blare, 2016