Today I turned back
Into a ghost.
Not even the checkout woman
Noticed me as I slid a tenner
Across the checkout till
For two plastic bags,
One half full of processed food
Another full of comfort.
I take a slurp of foreign brew
Hear the decadent poor
Pass my concrete coffin
Heading back from the boozer.
Chained to ideals of glory
With broken hearted saints
From desolate council estates
Left bleak by the can factory closure.
It’s days such as this
I do not notice the weather,
When my desires are simple
Make me feel,
Make me feel,
Make me feel, nothing.
Days when I sacrifice wealth
And love for being numb.
No comments:
Post a Comment