Thursday, 11 November 2010

Dead town.

Suburb of London.
Shopping centres have spires
like churches.
Streets are lined with
ashcan buildings -
deposited by some unseen,
ashen hand.

Clouds of grey
descend upon London,
and wills of white
walk on black streets -
bleak with stodgy

We live in porridge -
time is sticky,
and change's texture
is like a mire.
Dead town,
lift me up.

Dead town,
lift up your dregs
from the streets
and throw them
into London.

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