Real

[addy]

Hello jacko94, and welcome to the forums

This is an interesting piece, written in a way that's a bit trickier to read. I suppose it was an intentional stylistic choice to write the POV with an almost alien detachment to a dronish human existence with its hyper-controlled sensory input. It makes for an interesting effect in some spots, just as long as you make the tone consistent. Some parts seem to be straight-out grammar errors though, and they compromise the piece.

It seems you wrote "Down/ Down/ Up" as a pattern in the piece, though I'm not sure what it's logically trying to express (i don't see much of a difference content-wise between the "up" stanzas and the "down" ones). Are you trying to allude to medicated highs and lows, or am i missing something completely?

I pointed out a few things below, but held back commenting more since this is mild critique. If you don't mind more specific comments about content and phrasing and whatnot, you could try posting this in serious Critique too. 'Til then I'll leave off

Hope to see more of your stuff

Down to deep study,
Work, difficultly set as a medium, I think difficultly is an unwieldy word, but i guess that's just my personal taste

Down to windblown streets,
The sweet smells of taboo smoke filling the imaginations of lost boys.

Down to levels which difficultly struggles to walk,
One step, two.

Up to baby blue sky’s skies leaking with repetitive nine to five workers,
Filling pools of captivity,

Down to political square screens of rainbow colours,
Minds washed in circular motion. Interesting image

Down to the red rooms, where anger runs through blacked out meadows, not sure what is being referenced here blind, only connecting dots which seem true.

Up to swooned men lying on hollow laid floors,
Falling through dead bolted vaults of boredom and five fingered machines,

Down to ear piercing shouts,
Bleeding at the ears, green is the colour which runs out. Envy the tough beastly mistress, whipped through management and malice,

Down through lone degrading city strolls,
Grey paving, seeing through building only from seated walls,

Up to where dolefulness, doubtfulness wallows in the seven seas of whirlpools,

Black and white, colour blind, inattentive slugs moving with times fifteen minutes apart,

Taken with only a pinch of salt! For me the exclamation doesn't fit in tonally, but again that's me.