Oversleeping because I do not want to return to those cold and dark sleepless days.

But I can’t compare, or even try to comprehend, what it’s like to converse with your dreams against the concrete. 

You don’t know how depraved they are, I’m glad your faithful companion is beside you as your read the Bible, God Bless You.

Not a nation, I can’t even tell you the words to the second verse of the anthem, but don’t judge me.

I’m the background violin to your strong voices and your feeble hearts, where’s the love really?

At least I make my own my own meaning when I pluck the strings with my finger tips, at least I have some spirit.

Don’t tell me your piety lies in breathing the words in black blazers, shiny badges, silky hair, it means nothing. 

But I’d write this, I’d tell them and what for? To receive the scorpion’s spiteful sting again? 

Is the truth like poison to you or did I drench you with a flood of reality? Apologies for spoiling the hair. 

You’re COSMOPOLITAN, she’s the next model they say, and I have to agree while she smiles at me, I wonder why she noticed me.

And he think he’s so cool because he’s chasing the next girl after girl while I’m wondering where’s the fun in that? 

All of them full of misery, they confide in each other with deliciously dark secrets and take a hammer to their dreams. 

Ugly souls we are, citizens of culture, not unified but horrified by our electrified eyes. 

The damage cannot be undone, but our lives go on as if nothing ever happened, hunting Venus like no tomorrow. 

But we stole their nation from them, my scars have cut deep, I’ll cry for a stranger a million miles away. 

They pretend to care but their cuts can’t bleed like mine and they think I’m crazy to think that blood could save me.

But I’m not lifeless, you think I dwell on imperfection for no reason, I dwell on it like a pillow of sanity. 

And how I wish my music could be my blanket, like all nights when I put it on I don’t worry about the killer under my bed? 

You’re the new citizen of culture, you’re the sweetheart of the year and the mistress of misery in a year to come.

I’ll tell you now while you scowl at me, I could’ve sensed it in the air that there was a thunderstorm brewing. 

Your world will disappear by the flash of lightning and I won’t be laughing for I won’t know, my time has passed. 

I blew my chance but I don’t fret like I used to, all beauty will fade and all the thrills of the now become disconnected. 

Like you are, like they all were back then, years from now will you become ghosts in my mind and will I bury you? 

It’s like a cliffhanger, I’ve been holding on so long, how haven’t I died yet? GOD’S Grace, for sure. I mean it, honest.  

You cannot be great like the past, the golden days are long gone, now we know fire can be extinguished by water. 

We’ve done everything to blaspheme GOD, even you, you think you’re sweet like sugar that everyone loves, revise that thought.

Would I die having at least accomplished one pleasure not bought by money? Or would I die seeing it squandered by culture. 


One thought on “CITIZEN OF CULTURE