A new race
The collision of a new race
They all face the same path ahead.
Being in so much debt,
Some eyeballs will eventually pop out.
Egotistical men grunting
Their mating calls.
The salty air crisp with the smell,
Of garbage from the flat window.
It’s not my city
Over populated with this new race.
The blur between creativity and anxiety.
Vintage clothes and converse shoes.
Eating pasta that’s been there for a while.
Then washing up with cold water.
How do you switch the boiler on?