The perfect life

wake up tired    
go to bed awake      
Living to work      
to buy    
an artists impression      
of a life    
and not a very good one    
at that    
     
The half dead      
stories of success      
peel back      
a rotten smile      
and vomit      
photographs      
of last nights      
dinner      
Projecting perfection    
from a wine glass      
     
Screaming “we’re happy”    
“I love my life”    
“god has truly blessed us”    
as they fuck the neighbours      
and cry diamonds      
into their pillow    
while they contemplate    
slitting their wrists    
     
And their  
oh so beautiful children      
who do no wrong      
wearing  stolen halos      
regurgitate  
their parents      
weak attempt      
   
No hope      
for these little cunts    
I’m afraid