Suburban Vanilla.

This may sound filthy to some, those of a more pristine nature, but I want to explore the urban decay - the slums, the squathouses, the grime of real life.

I’m sick of suburbia and the same houses, on the same streets, with the same families boxed up inside.

Give me violence, graffiti and the grit of life.

I want to hear an old woman call me “cunt” instead of “dear”.

I want to see my upholding citizen of a neighbour shooting up in an alleyway behind a bar.

I want to see my old Math teacher asking for loose change on the corner.

I want to see your Mother grinding the pole at the strip club everyone warn’s you about.

Mostly, I want a taste of the worst of life with a hint of suburban vanilla at the back of my throat.
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This isn't quite a story nor a poem really either, just something I wrote down. I posted it in this section as it seemed like the best, I guess. Tell me your thoughts and wreck my grammar, please.