In the city they cleave to the shard

but you find them everywhere

unchanging in success and collapse

closetted racist simpletons

whinnying and booming

rich, confident

Poets? Pricks!

angular jaws and broad shoulders

Ill fitting designer suits, reluctant tips

They’ve never been addicted and quit

They’ve never worked Tesco nights on seven quid

They’ve never been addicted and remained so

They’ve never loved twice

They’ve never been unloved or de-loved

only beloved in greyness by themselves

they’ve never been challenged

and so they have no doubt

Everything seems easy

they find it tough in secret ways

but they hide from the toughness

and it always SEEMS easy

they talk talk talk

and nothing gets said

they spend spend spend

and nothing is gained

they smoke smoke smoke

the nicotine leaves

they gobble and shit



age in denial

and they all just die

unaware of how they really feel

spaced out of existence

and its end