The collision of a new race

Similar faces,

Different ambitions

They all face the same path ahead.

 

Moaning Stereotypes.

Being in so much debt,

Some eyeballs will eventually pop out.

Pub crawls-

 

Egotistical men grunting

Their mating calls.

The salty air crisp with the smell,

 Of garbage from the flat window.

It’s not my city

It’s ours.

 

Over populated with this new race.

The blur between creativity and anxiety.

Vintage clothes and converse shoes.

Eating pasta that’s been there for a while.

Then washing up with cold water.

How do you switch the boiler on?

I’m clueless.