destination nowhere

Dearly Beloved,

I.
           Should I tell you a tale of another broken home? I'm sure you've heard them all before. We have become the children of the Weak and Weary. We are the generation that's fallen between the cracks...


II.
           My heart beats louder than the bombs setting fire across my television screen. The ashes in my veins circulate until my body is a mesh of smoke and longing. My destination is Nowhere, yet it always seemed better than here.

           I miss the colors of the sky, because for the last few years I've only seen gray. Perhaps it's been so long now that I've become colorblind.

           And you should know that I can't fight a hurricane of hate. I am just too tired. So instead, I shield my eyes from the piercing rains and sidestep the fault-line that runs through my home. Another wrecked foundation...


III.
           Their eyes all set to burn me. When the bible told me to put down my bottle,  I put down the bible instead. I'll leave my Sunday morning confessions to the filters in my cigarette. My marlboros are less judging anyway. Hail to the era of hypocrisy.

           And the world calls me a statistic for failure, the decimal point on hopelessness. It believes that I've existed on the outskirts of normality for too long, but my mind is set. I'll stand accused of falling out of line, because my dreams are iridescent.


IV.
           I've taken the highway out of this hell going 90mph, because I want to see the sunrise for once. I want to breathe air not laced with corruption. I want to see that hope exists on the border of this town.  The world owes me that much... it owes me.



                        ....Are you listening?