No land for dreams

Nothing with nothing.
The Wasteland in a wasteland
The nightmare in a dreamland.
Dancing and dream, but no land.
The letters but no lights.
The brutality of the place

Is this where we find the crab
Silently scuttling away from this shore?
Dirty curtains, half drawn,
Mismatching windows,
Piled on top of each other,
Staring out to sea
And connecting the nothings

And the boy bearing his chest
Punches the walls and shouts
While his friends walk with him and laugh
He turns and shouts then grabs his girl
And they kiss – violent, full of hate, full of show
And the others stare at their phones while they wait
For the kissing to stop.
And when it has she hangs back while he punches the wall and shouts again.
Nothing with nothing. It’s all for nothing.

This is the nightmare.
This is the wasteland
This is how it ends.
Grey, brutal, violent and standing alone.
Threatening. A lesson.
This could be it. This could be yours.
This could be your dreamland,
Your nightmare, your place to learn
The truth of brutality.

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