Suburban Blues

Photo by Tom Rumble on Unsplash

As I lie here
Between these perfect sheets
I wonder
Is this all that I need?

Sedated, almost drowning 
In the comfortable numbness 
I find myself howling 
To the Moon instead

Why these nick-nacks?
Why are these of such importance?
The quest for IKEAesque perfection 
The allure of this, the great seduction

It permeates, it creeps into our lives
It seeks to destroy 
The fire burning, churning 
In our once known insides

Time after time
We arrive at this place
Soon, no place to hide
It will, unfortunately, spill like wine

Forgetting is like the wind
It comes and goes
Remembering, more like a stone
Hard and it takes time to formulate

If I speak, does it seem so bleak?
Does it seem ungrateful, or even meek?
I assure You, it’s neither 
Instead, it’s the voice of reason

Forget Your comfortable lives
Step inside
Lie awake
Until You die

Ian Altosaar

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