Suburbia was doomed from the beginning. Post-war American society prompted residents to search for normalcy and security in "picture-perfect" housing, each blade of grass precisely cut and each home identical to the next. It was a desperate attempt to hide the scars of war and depression. But, without sorrow or darkness, it is impossible for rectitude to illuminate the hollows of our hearts. Each flawless tree branch and artfully placed shingle is a one-way ticket to an unnatural, apathetic, joyless world, spiraling closer and closer to the horror and hardship you tried to escape from. It is like using duct tape on a suppurating lesion. Will it stop the dripping? Yes. But what happens when you try to rip the tape off? The wound is worse than it was before. This poetry chapbook investigates the irony of suburbia and its inherent malice, through the eyes of the children growing up in it. Some of the poems are inspired by my life, but others are entirely fictional, told through the eyes of imaginary characters that probably exist somewhere in the world.
