Urban Decay

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I based this on the poem 'Mescaline' by ginsberg. Its fairly self explanatory really, about a failed poet who realises how he is growing older. Enjoy :)

Submitted: July 31, 2010

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Submitted: July 31, 2010

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Urban Decay
 
A Holmesian, boho figure is hunched thin lines
Of amphetamine in the freezing apartment,
Glowing white as green halos, Aurora Borealis,
 
Glide through the crumbling brick streets. He’s
Amazed at their freshness, so contrasting to
Those bum notes, fag-ends of jazz which stream
 
The open window... the repugnant insects too,
Attracted by the stains of curry, the used litter,
And the ape suit hanging in Boho’s old wardrobe.
Heavy smoke covers the pristine papers, silver
Illuminated pens on his desk, and while he tries
Desperately to write his poetry, straggled cat hairs
 
Blow in on the gentle breeze, drifting in quietly
To the stagnant, sweat filled room. He moans,
‘Oh fuck, are these my greying hairs everywhere?’
 
Boho looks up from the empty pages and drugs
Across the purple cityscape, his own decaying
Home and legacy, and slowly goes vividly insane.


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