Futures so bright
Following societies’ grand design:
Twenty to thirty-wedding, make mundane money.
Thirty to sixty-Protestant wealth, children.
Sixty to ninety-compromised vacations, then dead.
Here at twenty-four, we still call each other honey,
Only two years wed--
Cracks are beginning to show.
The once in a while passionate sex--
The increasing glances of hopelessness
The spending free time on opposite sides of the house.
Coming down from the Wuthering Heights of happiness
Origin of love, lost in madness and chaos.
Here we are: a year later—divorce.
Neither wishing to see the other ever again.
Just another dark statistical dot of death.
Hipsters preaching doctrines
Far above the rabble in their luxury high-rises.
Triteness the only new anathema,
Only one unoriginal thesis
To add to the church door.
Bastardize the universal basics
Leaving all branded with the imperial words--
Too simple, too archetypal.
They babble on and on and on
Like that one annoying alcoholic aunt.
Graphic design along with materialistic I-Phones
And ridiculous oculus eyes,
Clearly qualifying one as omniscient critic.
They endlessly socialize and
Schmooze over sugar soaked lattes,
Showing off their status-booze on Instagram.
Thirty to forty something moms and dads
Inevitable inferiority complexes.
The freshest fad in the land--
The newest tritest archetype.
Ross Knapp is a recent college graduate with degrees in philosophy and literature. He has an experimental literary novel forthcoming and various poetry publications in Blue Lake Review, Poetry Pacific Magazine, Burningword Literary Journal, Belle Reve Literary Journal, Blood and Thunder Literary Magazine, Tipsy Lit Literary Magazine, and Clockwise Cat Literary Magazine.