Explosives and roses.
Picket fences, barbed wire, the kill zone,
Boundaries of armament.
The middle-class lawn and its bucolic ashes,
Tyre trucks and burnt out mattresses,
junk yards and plastic swimming pools
The hyperreal of hyperreality.
Do you dream of mayflowers?
The nightmares of mother nature.
Sow to reap to Opiate,
there is a darkness in suburbia;
Lynch, picket fence,
He plants roses for tran-scen-dence.
- 2020
© anyotherkingdom
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