We are the children of bright neon lights.
Rivers of high heels and black wheels racing.
Dazzle and glow illuminate the nights,
the fake smiling, the wanting, the chasing.
Flashing fluorescent extinguish the stars,
metallic mountains rising and rising.
The city consumes, becomes what we are-
powdered faces, plucked eyebrows, disguising.
The lights call out but we don’t hear our names.
Money spent, strangers met, but still hollow,
people rushed by, blinded by the fame games.
Streets, signs, roads, highways, but who to follow?
We are the children of bright neon lights,
the sad epitomes of urban blight.
A World Forgetting By A World Forgot by FridaytheBest, literature
Literature
A World Forgetting By A World Forgot
And this is where they've gone
a tangle of the unspoken familiarity.
Joel was never a child of impulse,
But he woke up itching to be gone.
Something, someone, out there was missing him.
He got on the first train to Montauk.
Clementine was never anyone's ideal.
Hollow and broken, but brilliant nevertheless,
Never cared for the loudness of her kaleidoscope hair.
She screamed with suffocating attention, but she never asked for any.
Creation of whim
She got on the first train to Montauk
Some say you can never truly forget,
For the mind is a pathological hoarder.
You can only hide the bad,
Hoping you would never have to stumble across it
If only