Small Town Infinity

Infinity is a word without a definition because in truth the words relies only on repetition. Walking down the road wearing worn soles that know pot holes and pot rolls on every street corner and stay warmer with the same jacket of last Christmas...is this infinity? Or will someone tear me away and show me what this is?
Small town life with big city dreams that float away from our minds approaching nineteen and we might scream for the night seems to never end...infinity... just begins again.
We make our names in indecent things, in small town afflictions. Forgotten soon leaving nothing behind but nicotine addictions. Young love is only as cliche as you make it with infinity next door you can take convention, break it.
And your friends say that one day you'll be the one to make it out. As if poetry is eternal fame or at least the famous route. Last I checked Dickinson was only famous in her death but I won't wait  around to croak away the inspiration I have left.
Cars fly faster than fruit flies fluttering faithlessly from fried food to fried food never forgetting to include the indecent ingenius concoctions of the local deli well deliver me to another town if I can't suffer this diet anymore...I'm on the next bus out, nothing worth waiting for.
My parents will cry sure but their's are tears of truth because this town is insufferable and I'm the given proof. Nineteen in college vying for a degree to big stage in Hollywood...finally he's free. So forgive me infinity for my refuse to settle, never chose the  cookie cutter over the gas pedal. So speed me away to something to interests that I truly deem greater and if not immediately I'm sure success will come later.  Security is for the weak and I'm a child of passion raised on the humble streets in the small town fashion.
I'll visit soon on Christmas break my own little infinity, the conveyer built of life, broken by what I chose to be...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKSjK_O04JI