Suburban Hell    

        Do you ever feel alone? Strangely alone? Strange because you're crowded and suffocated by overly familiar faces. The parent you never agree with and are finding it harder and harder to respect. The teachers and employers who talk at you not to you. You begin to wonder when they do talk to you if it's not only their superficial hand reaching out to you from their own lost and empty pit of loneliness, just trying to make contact. You are continually doing the same thing with the friends you have, talking / gossiping about the same things. Then one or the other in the crowd has you or someone else overly aroused or agitated, the complaints and sadness become the latest topic for discussion. Somedays they all seem so unrelenting and vicious, you just want to run away, take refuge from the world.

        It seems that you have talked so much and to so many people. Sometimes so much has come out of that desperate hole in your face that it all loses meaning, all your breath was wasted. Or worse than that undective fate is that you may end up saying too many things you never wanted to devulge, personal, vulgar things. It becomes so hideous that you become annoyed with your own voice and are sure all those with you are too. You've devulged personal things to people who seem most of the time to form the noose around your neck. Even if they wanted to help you, or empathize, could they? Would it be worth it? For them? Or for you?

        I've thought so many times in my silence and that haunts me; Even though I believe to this day that that estimate is almost completely true, I realized a few other things are also eating my toenails. I am not alone in my condition, I never was. It is not a psychological plane that connects those of this somber state but rather our similar situation. It is our fatal origin, the place of solitude, gestation and birth.

        Here in the depths of suburbia there are many of the lonely persuasion. This place is just, in my opinion, a brick, pavement and grass version of hell. It has the little pleasantries of speeches from the devils, and the euphoria of death and tainted psyches. Here there are just colder winters than in the proverbial fire and brimstone image. In that version of hell they don't bronze their shit or spray it with perfumed lust as we do here. At least in that hell everyone knows who and where they are, they never have to worry about leaving, because they can't. The residents there are never alone, they are always haunted by all the evil things they've done and loved. For them it's like a nursery containing all their toys and a candy store on the side filled with all the forbidden fruit and drink they want.

        Suburbia is temptation. They bring you here pretending to offer the best of both worlds. The isolation and quiet of the the country and all the people and the hurry of the city. It's all rolled neatly, closely in one gigantic ball of confusion. It's no wonder so many of us are messed up and diluted. There is no comfort in this microcosmic lifestyle, filled with all the deceit and betrayal the world has to lend us, lacking ever so drastically in the compassion and awareness of knowing where and who you are. Here you are tempted with all the candy you want, but you have no place to enjoy it. You can only mull over your feelings of being trapped, denied and the thoughts that betray the ignorace of this institutionm, a breeder for all the devil's imprisoning ideas. They all make up the rows of cells in a smothering capsule of a clone occupied death camp.

        I never feel like I wake up anymore, I'm just moving in a coma. Drowning in what I thought gave me like. Perhaps I was dead from the very beginning or am alive but have forgotten how to breathe. Maybe it is me who is the devil, selling evil thought and ignorance, but I don't think so. I look around me and I see others who are choking here, trying to break free from the mold and chains. Drying in the womb of western society's mistress.                                         -Dust