millennium teens: (the wonders of the internet)

crumpled paper in the bin

replaced by yet more poetry confessions:

the generation that speaks it's hormones through metaphors

and abuses p.un.ct.ua.ti.on

to explain how we really feel

(Noting that wrists and razor blades

make complex alliteration

and bold text adds depth.)

-

The new millennium teenagers;

whoring through drug addictions

and affairs of the heart.

The nail polish is black,

the weight is under 90 pounds

and you're nobody unless you've had therapy.

-

We're wanna-be's

and yet

washed-up,

grudgingly making way for the virgin kiddies beneath us.

Their lives so full of promise and possibility.

We were like that once.

(Or so I read)

-

Political, bisexual, wiccan indie-lovers.

We tried to be different,

but we all ended up the same.

-

So does printing off poems

by some anorexic in another continent

make you feel any better?

Did your kindred correspondance with

(insert-depressing-penname-here)

help you overcome

(relevant-personal-tragedy)

-

So we say

blood/slut/innocent/trashy/blade/wrists/tragic/whores/suicide/cigarettes/hearts/dirty/burns/overweight/underweight/sleazy/bodyshot/queens/fingertips/vomit/goddess/cocaine/chic/shit/alcohol/sheets/fuck

fuck

fuck

-

…to serve up the lukewarm remains of everything else.

(These poems all start to look the same)

-

And what it all translates to is

Weare notdealing.

We'll be the class of '07.

(If we live that long.)